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When I was younger I prayed, now, I just… write

There was a time when I prayed to God every day. I had no one to turn to, no one who could understand. I had an infinite love for Him and an unshakeable trust in his power and good-will. Even when he put the one who would become my best friend in my path, I would still trust him the most. It may even be that she helped grow my faith and love of Him and of the long dialogues I used to have with Him.

The thought of Him made me stronger, the knowledge that I had Him if everything else failed, helped me power through the hardships. So I prayed to Him, I prayed every single night. I could not fall asleep if I hadn’t said my prayers. Some nights, when the pain was gripping at my chest tighter, I would pray for specific things, things that did not happen. With time, I prayed that his will be done. It was my way of giving up on part of the hope for that one thing that I wanted more than anything.

The day His will was done, is the day my faith began to disappear, to ebb away slowly. I don’t know exactly if it was conscious or not, if I am rationalising it now or not, but I think it felt like the God I knew, which was one of love and compassion, showed me He was actually cruel enough to punish me and not tell me why or what had I done so wrong to have so much pain, so much anger and disillusionment inside of me, gnawing at my heart, my soul, my faith and hope.

Now, almost 9 years later, I feel Him again, with less intensity, with less love and almost no dialogue. The trust has been broken, by me, not by Him, and I am also the one who needs to build it anew. The way I saw it back then was that I trusted Him to do the right thing and to also help me through the ordeal of what that meant. Instead, I had found myself alone, though I didn’t know it was by choice at the time, alone with no more Godly power to give me strength and hope.

The way I see it now, all that was back then, all that has been since then, has forged the path I am walking now. It’s hard to admit it; to be grateful for it is even harder, I still struggle with it, as it’s hard to be grateful for something so painful. Oh, how I wish I knew more words to describe it. I am practicing gratitude, though it’s unspeakably hard to be grateful for grief, to say thank you for sorrow, to acknowledge the good, hidden in desperation. I can never forget that burning sensation in my throat and chest, followed by or mixed with the hollowness of loneliness, but I am hoping that I can use that fire to continue crafting the person that I am, to keep tinkering at the person I know I can be. Back to my faith, I can say it evolved, it changed as I am now more spiritual than religious, although I never used the latter to describe my faith in Him. I am not even sure why I am writing this or where exactly I am going with it. It just felt like it’s time to put it out there, to acknowledge I am ready to see all that was as a way to give me enough to craft what will be. Maybe I am just writing this to give myself the push I need to accomplish all that I wish to do; or maybe, I just needed it out so I can breathe in a wider, more tranquil chest.

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