The 3 Month Hiatus

The first crack in my wall appeared when I was eight.  It wasn't deep though, you can't crack a wall deep when it is still fresh.  Brand new walls seem to have an elasticity to them that fades quickly as it ages.

I am 18 years old.  My wall should be sparkly, not like a vampire or like a flamboyant mans outfit but like new and never been harmed.   Instead it has been under siege for the past ten years.  My walls have been battered down by diseases and deaths and injuries.    I think that I have been doing pretty well, until recently.  I am struggling.  

I watched as my mom lost her father, I watched her struggle with it while I was grieving over a lost grandfather, you could see the deep sadness on her face.  You can't fully understand the expression until you have experienced the cause. 

She was the person who kept my hopes up.  She was the lady who beat the odds and lived when she was supposed to die.  My mom never gave up, never acted sad.  She always had her head up.  And then she died. 

My mama told me when I was young
Said sit beside me my only son
And listen closely to what I say
And if you do this it'll help you some sunny day
Oh, take your time, don't live too fast
Troubles will come and they will pass
You'll find a woman and you'll find love
And don't forget that there is a someone up above

And when she died I could feel the walls supports shudder. 

It has been a long three months. I haven't done anything but sit in the rubble of my demolished wall.  I've made no attempt at rebuilding it.  I don't have the energy for this stuff.  I have lost my drive and desire but the world is coming around again and I have to go into it.     

Words.

To be perfectly honest, a lot of things have lost their meaning to me.  A lot of really amazing things, that I used to love and that I should still love mean nothing.  I've been told that it is typical to lose motivation and that with time I'd start to gain interest in things again.  

This was the summer that I was allowed to try playing soccer again and I was so ready to play again.  Maybe part of it is the weather that has been happening here.  Most of the USA and Canada are under huge heat waves of temperatures that are more than doubling the temperature here but I don't go outside much anyways right now.  I used to like to swim and I used to like going to my cottage but now it doesn't seem to matter. 

Most of all I have lost the desire for words.  I used to use them in writing and singing and of course talking but now it doesn't seem to do anything.  It doesn't send a spark, or evoke any deep emotion.  People say that they escape into music when things happen to their lives but music is evading me and it was the most amazing thing in my life.  When mom was sick, it was so helpful, I could express when I had to but I could also escape into a different world, one with melodies and harmonies instead of pain and sickness and death.  

I don't have the will to keep moving or writing.

When the joy stops outweighing the sorrow, I don't know what to do.

Confusion

These are all the things I am afraid to say aloud. 

I am afraid of dying.
I am afraid of heaven.
I am afraid that people won't remember me there.
and that I won't remember them.

I am afraid that when I die, it will be just me and God and I won't be allowed any other contact.  That he is really some sort of cult leader.  I know it sounds stupid.  

I am afraid of following blindly.  I am afraid of these tests that God is putting me through as though it is some sort of initiation to a gang.  

I don't like how he is taking away everything and still expecting me to follow him.

He wants us to choose to follow him but he doesn't make it easy.

He says that he loves us but he hurts us more than we could ever imagine.

It is like he is trying to make us turn away from him
It seems like he is hurting us only to make him feel important when he provides the comfort.  He kills off the people we love and then as if that isn't a big enough power trip for him he tries to comfort us too.  It seems two-faced.

He makes it so hard to trust him.
How often does he want us to prove our faith?

Or is he trying to see how long until we give up?
Are those who trust in God really only the fools who haven't given up on the Devil in disguise?