Yesterday, my months of somber sadness and what I’d deemed depression transformed into deep, fiery anger. I came to a realization that nearly every prayer I’ve ever spoken has been with one of two tones:
- Gratitude, thanking the Universe/God for every tiny thing (even if/when I felt like a bag of asses).
- Desperate pleading, begging God to either help me or kill me.
Out of both approaches, the Higher Power of my understanding would more so appreciate the second one. Why? Because it’s fucking authentic. It’s based on true feelings of desperation, rather than the former option’s forced sense of gratitude.
Granted, there are plenty of times I am grateful, and I’d like to think those prayers travel super fast and get right where they need to go… And, while in transit, sprinkle wildflower seeds all over those grassy areas on the side of roadways.
The one issue with the second option of praying is that, while it does offer a sense of surrender on my part, it’s mighty painful and is sort of a last resort. There’s got to be a way to catch myself before reaching rock bottom.
You know what approach I’ve neglected to take prior to kerplunking into the deep pit of despair which precedes my desperate pleas?
Real-talk.
Like, straight-up… “HEY. IF YOU ARE LISTENING, AND IF YOU EXIST, WHAT THE FUCK. LIKE. WHAT IN THE ACTUAL FUCK IS GOING ON WITH THIS (XYZ) SITUATION.”
I realize my next level of authenticity + vulnerability goes beyond my relationship with myself or with humans; it’s my relationship with my higher power. It’s learning to truly communicate my needs and wants and frustrations… Because how the fuck else can there be a healthy relationship?
I’ve legit been in a codependent relationship with God. I don’t want to upset Spirit, so I will just hold in all this pain and instead focus on the good stuff.
Yea, no.
And you know another part of it? In the honor of real-talk here… When I say “Higher Power” and “God” and “Spirit”, it feels contrived. Seriously. None of it resonates for me. These feel like limiting words for something that is limitless. And I don’t even know if there is some all-knowing, loving force… Or if this concept of “god” is actually my higher consciousness or our collective consciousness… Or maybe our entire galaxy is inside of a marble, like in Men in Black.
I don’t fucking know.
And so sometimes I feel dishonest and like a poser when I say “God”… And especially when I capitalize it.
You know which name I still like best? Quantum Fred.
ANYhoo… yesterday, I lost my shit. I found a tiny pin-sized hole in my wall and made that my “god” for conversational and focal purposes… And I laid into it. I yelled and cussed and got all kinds of anger out. And I demanded some assistance.
Now, this can seem ballsy or like, “WHOTHAFUCK DOES THIS CHICK THINK SHE IS?” But. Here was my point to this higher power / spirit / god character.
YO DUDE. I AM THE ONE WHO IS IN HUMAN FORM HERE. I’M EXPERIENCING THE SUFFERING OF THE HUMAN CONDITION. I AM FULLY DEDICATED TO HELPING OTHERS AND SPREADING LOVE, AND I’M DONE BEING A MARTYR AND DRAINING MYSELF TO A POINT OF DEEP DEPRESSION.
HELP A BROTHER OUT.
And there were cuss words, and at one point I flailed around a lot while yelling.
I demanded a miracle within the following 24 hours. I let go of what the miracle would look like, but I did have an idea of what it would feel like.
I just looked up the definition of miracle, and here’s what I found:
- a surprising and welcome event that is not explicable by natural or scientific laws and is therefore considered to be the work of a divine agency.
-
a highly improbable or extraordinary event, development, or accomplishment that brings very welcome consequences.
By that definition, I did receive my miracle. On the outside, it may not seem like much. But I could feel it. It wasn’t some giant flashy surprise $100,000 check or anything. It was pretty simple, and pretty human. If you had asked me 100 times how my day might go and what might happen in it, I’d have never guessed the chain of events that did end up occurring, the feelings I got to feel, the conversations I got to have, the people I got to hug, and the art I got to witness.
I was so involved in my life and in the present moment that, at no point during the day (Wednesday) did I think about this blog… Or about my book… Or about writing anything, really. I focused on living and enjoying myself and learning and experiencing and conversing. That, in and of itself, is a miracle.
Anyway. My Inner Skeptic still has some shit to talk about regarding its definition of a miracle in comparison to my daily events… But, fuck it. At this point in time, I’m in a place where I don’t actively want to die. Some cool, unexpected shit happened to get me here… And I also received a big download of clarity on how to move forward professionally.
So. That was my miraculous journey today. And now, sleep.