Remember how I told you that I was doing ok, that the pain of the failed pregnancy was surprisingly dull? Well that didn’t last long. Thanks to chlomid and other factors, what began as a humming ache progressed into bat. shit. crazy. I hate to admit that I am not in any way exaggerating this point. I am literally losing my mind, which is something I said to Trever last night when I crawled in bed after an hour of sobbing hysterically. I wasn’t even crying about pregnancy or motherhood, I’m actually not thinking about that much. But the grief of everything and the constant hormonal tweaking is causing feelings to sprout up into my orderly and predictable mind. This makes a circumstance that might call for a glossy eyed nearly-cry escalate quickly and without any sense of control into absolute and total mania.
It was while I still maintained some semblance of rational behavior before the great melt down that I met with Ash to discuss prayer. He asked me where God was in all of this. We were in a loud starbucks and people were walking in and out so I kept getting distracted and looking away, while desperately hoping that the question might itself become distracted and walk away as well. After a socially unacceptable amount of silence and delay I turned back to Ash and all I could say is, “He’s irrelevant.”
I don’t think prayer changes things, I don’t think God speaks back, I don’t think God intervenes hardly at all, I think there’s a chance He comforts us but I doubt it, and I really don’t think there’s much relationship to be had in that sense. I have come to terms with God’s existence, I’m making progress in accepting His goodness, I do not however think I can manage to believe He’s relational with us. I told Ash all of this, I told him how I tried to study and practice prayer in faith and it felt disingenuous and false and so I stopped. Just to give another quick shout out to the psychedelic rave my emotions are throwing in my brain, it is because of them I no longer have a filter. Was it necessary to clarify that?
Ash asked me if it’s possible that I’m waiting for God to respond to me, but that I’m only allowing Him to respond on my terms. He asked if it was possible that God was actually right there in the emotions and I wasn’t recognizing His presence. I contemplated this, I maybe even felt a little convicted by it. I quietly vowed to practice faith in a relationship with God whatever that might look like.
Then I had an emotional breakdown last night referred to previously, woke up the next morning and felt like I had been drunk on feelings the night before, like they had taken me over and I felt like a fool. So I took back my vow, if God’s in my emotions He’s really unstable, and if He is in circumstances He’s even more unstable, and if He speaks through visions he has an unhealthy obsession with sail boats, all of these things equally concern me. Let’s all, in hope for my salvation, pray that God tunes us out when we’re on synthetic hormones.
In the meantime I have virtually no control over the way I feel right now, so I will do the only thing I can control which is input. So I am inputting all the time, as in if I’m not watching Ryan and Marissa quarrel with the passions of a soap opera then I’m hiking or doing yoga or pretty much anything but letting my mind sit still. I will now be leaving to go to Peter’s Canyon where I will hike the hill to the top where there always seem to be a vague scent of maple syrup in the air. In my thorough assessment the scent is due either to a bizarre maple essence plant or else an elaborate scheme from IHOP to make tired and hungry hikers subconsciously crave breakfast foods. Either way, the contemplation of the schemes of nature to make us clueless homo-sapiens crave sugar keeps me from being angry, which is really all I’m hoping for at this point, non-anger. Goals.
