Crying Won't Help You; Praying Won't Do You No Good

I'm afraid tonight may be one of those brutally honest nights.  A couple glasses of wine notwithstanding, I'm feeling the urge to be pretty straightforward.

I f'ing hate this "new" life.  Quick aside, I'm not one for profanity -- especially in my writing.  I feel it just dumbs it down.  However, if I am expressing myself using "soft" profanity, that should tell you how I'm really feeling.  I'm holding back for the sake of my literary reputation.

So, to backtrack a bit, I inadvertently stopped taking my antidepressants about a week and a half ago.  I didn't mean to, but after a couple brutal days battling a stomach virus and a couple more treating my stomach very gingerly, I didn't want to put much of anything into my system.  After that, I got the bright idea that I wanted to see how I could get along without them.  Well, I think I have my answer.  After a few days without my meds, I felt shaky, spacey, flu-like, irritable and short-tempered.  Oh, and I've cried at things much more easily.  I have had a definite return of the most intense feelings of grief -- this can't be true, he can't be gone, how do I get out of this place, I just want to be with him, etc.  The most raw and awful feelings have definitely resurfaced.  At the same time, I want to face them and try to deal with them head on.  I am not a pill person -- never have been.  I am not stubborn enough to refuse medicinal help where it may be useful, but I also don't want to spend the rest of my life blocking out the truest feelings of my heart and soul.  My "sorrow of the heart" (as my new Christian therapist phrased it) -- not depression -- is what ails me.  I have to deal with this sorrow head on.  It's part of me now, and I can't avoid it with pills.

On Sunday I tried a new church.  Through a series of chance events -- or a "God thing" as I think it truly was -- I found a church about 20 minutes from me, and gave it a go.  It's an Assemblies of God congregation, a church Mike always felt at home in.  The service was very nice, the pastor was sound -- and hysterical -- and the people were so welcoming.  I even stayed after the service for a new-members luncheon that happened to be taking place that day.  Nobody there knew a thing about me or my story, but they made me feel so welcome that I let them in and shared what I was going through.  The tears were unstoppable, and at that point I didn't even care to let them flow.  I was being real, and I needed to be loved.  Loneliness is the worst bedfellow of misery, and the two of us have been in bed together way too much.

I did hit a bit of a wall upon meeting one woman who runs the Bible study.  She was so sweet and loving, but I had that "please-don't-say-that-because-I-don't-know-you-well-enough-to-correct-you" feeling.  In the midst of her caring and support, she said, "Jesus is your husband now.  Let Him love you."

[Crickets.....]

OK, so Bibically speaking, she may have been right.  For any non-Christians reading this, the church is Jesus' bride, and in Heaven we will all be part of the same marriage -- us with Christ.  Yada, yada.  I get it.  I just wasn't in the mood to hear it.  I guess I am not ready to make that trade.  Jesus may listen to my fears and troubles, but will he grab me and embrace me?  Jesus may love me, but will he make love to me?  Jesus may have interests at heart, but will he do everything within his power to protect me from pain and suffering?  Mike did all those things I'm not convinced Jesus will do for me.  That's just one of the reasons I miss Mike so much.  I'm in a catch 22 with church folks.  I admire their love for the Lord.  In fact, I wish I had more of it.  However, every time I hear someone tell me how much Jesus loves me, I practically shudder.  Really?  Where is this love I keep hearing about?  Mike's love was real.  It was tangible.  It was right there without question.  I never had to wonder where it was or how real it was.  Jesus?  I'm not so sure about it.  I realize that as a Christian I'm not being a very good representative for God's kingdom, but I guess that's where the brutal honesty comes in.

On top of that, I HATE going to church alone.  I want to go, and yet I look out upon the sea of people and see nothing but couples and young families and all I can think is, "That's supposed to be us."  When we were able, I loved going to church with Mike.  I was so proud to have such a strong Christian husband who lead me in our faith.  Now, I sit there alone.  I don't have much of a church-going circle of friends or family, so if I want to attend it means I'm going alone.  Add to that the fact that I'm an emotional sieve now, especially in church.  Every song and every sermon prick me in the heart and there's just no hiding it.  In the end I just feel more alone.  I don't think the solution is to skip it altogether, but I'm not sure I enjoy subjecting myself to the pain.

How can Mike be gone for this long?  It's like part of me is expecting him to come back.  Then I realize it's never going to happen and I just get more and more frustrated and angry.

Boy, I remember the days when I just loved life....