Faith is a Struggle Especially When You Think God Sucks

I’m going to start out this post with two disclaimers:

  1. If you’re not interested in listening to someone rage and vent during an entire blog post, please don’t read this post. I totally understand.
  2. If you think the KJV of the bible is the only correct version of the bible, if you abhor swearing, if you think blasphemy can never be appropriate or funny, if you think that angels look like cherubs, Jesus was a white guy and God never sits up in heaven thinking “Guys – I really do have unconditional love for you, but seriously – what the hell? You’re acting like assholes and making it really hard for me to like you” you need to stop reading this post right now. Jesus wants you to go here instead. Trust me on this. Also, if you think swearing is horrible, why in the hell are you still reading my blog?

This is not going to be a happy post. This is an angry and sad post. 2013 has decided that my declarations to punch it in the throat if it isn’t better than 2012 don’t mean much. So I’ve officially declared 2013 an asshole.

Today is the two week anniversary since Benjamin died. The Sunday before, we noticed that Benjamin had very yellow skin. Since Mira and Sam died so close together, we’ve been keeping ridiculously close tabs on the other cats, so much so that we’re really pissing them off. This came out of the blue. That night he refused to eat.

The following Monday he collapsed while putting him in the crate. We rushed to the vet. They took blood, and obviously his liver values were off the chart. He stayed Monday night and Tuesday night. I visited twice a day, but he was so miserable. He was a huge lovebug to us and our close friends, but he hated loud noise and most other people than his family.

We were both devastated. And I was furious. I took a punishing yoga class that Tuesday, hoping to exorcise some of the rage I felt through sweat and pushing myself physically to the limit. It wasn’t the smartest thing to do with my back and knee injuries, but for 90 minutes I thought of nothing but my struggle to not collapse. And when I got out, I was still seething. I hurt, and I wanted to project that hurt on someone else. I’ve learned over the years how unhealthy and unfair and shitty this is to do, so I warned my husband that I needed some alone time and sat up in my bedroom, alternating between sobbing and being filled with rage.

I made the bad decision to look at Facebook. That night the “perfect lives” people were out in full force – if you use Facebook you know exactly who I’m talking about. Those of you who know me well know I loathe a great deal of  inspirations GIFs. They’re either adorable ways to be passive aggressive, or they take complex emotional issues and water them down to poorly written platitudes that you can post on someone’s Facebook page and make it look like you care. They’re the graphic equivalent of saying “I’ll pray for you” and never actually doing it. Of all the nights the above could have happened, of course it was that Tuesday night. Some douchenozzle had posted a “God never gives you more than you can handle” inspirational GIF. I felt like a cartoon character because I was so mad that it felt like actual steam was coming out of my ears. I wisely closed the laptop and began to pace back and forth in my room.

I lashed out. I let God know that he had given us more than we could handle and what a total asshole I thought he was. I was so livid that I don’t even know how I could possibly have  had any room left for feeling bruised, beat-up, brokenhearted and numb. But somehow all of these things fit in my body, and I felt like I would explode from the pulsating emotions inside me.

The next day, we decided to bring Benjamin home. Our vet, Dr. Claire Ringger, is a wonderful vet who goes far beyond the requirements of her job. She sat and loved on Mira while she got her blood transfusion. She was able to coax Benjamin into eating something by feeding him under a blanket. I’m grateful for her compassion and her honesty. We could have had a biopsy done. Unfortunately, that would have meant more time at the vet. He was so stressed and scared that I just wanted him home.

Dr. Ringger gave us medications for almost all the possibilities, and we have a lot of experience with force-feeding cats. Benjamin snuggled in with us in the bed, and we were able to get a whole can of food in him over the next 24 hours. This gave us a lot of hope. He was only 10 – he was going to beat this. He was very weak, but getting food in him was a big victory. We were so hopeful we could save him – we didn’t care how much time it took or how inconvenient it made our lives, Benjamin was going to get better.

Benjamin AKA Walrus

Thursday night, he crashed. Marcus and I took shifts loving on him while the other tried to sleep. He broke my heart again when he came stumbling out from under the dresser when he heard my voice and tried to rub on my ankle. The heater was cranked to 80 in our bedroom, and I was dripping in sweat in a wool sweater because Benjamin liked the feel of wool sweaters. I picked him up, snuggled with him and realized with a horrible moment of crystal-clear clarity, that we weren’t going to get to keep him. The kindest thing we could do for him was to let him go as quickly as possible. A quick call to the vet confirmed this, and we called the visiting vet to come put him to sleep. Laura was wonderful and sweet and kind. She cried with us, because she had to put one of her cats to sleep on Monday. And our beautiful Benjamin nodded off to sleep and died in our arms as we told him how much we loved him, but that he needed to go where he could be happy and safe. We did our best not to baptize him with too many tears. The vet cried some more; we cried some more. I hugged her and told her how glad I was that she was there, so he could die at home. She took a pawprint, hugged us and left.

Marcus and I just sat on the edge of our bed and cried. We cuddled Benjamin a bit more. And then my husband said “This is exactly where I didn’t want to be. Another $1000 and another dead cat.” And then we cried some more, and I got really pissed. Stages of grief are never as neat as they seem in Psych 101 textbook.

While I cuddled Benjamin, I uttered these words. “I no longer think God’s an asshole. Frankly, at this point, He can go fuck himself.” We sat there on the bed for a while. And then, Marcus looked over at me and said “Kristina – He’s God. He probably can.” Then this happened:

Obviously, this did not happen. Either that or Hell has one bitchin’ wi-fi connection and looks a lot like our house. No – we laughed, bitterly with the kind of black humor we bring out when we’re trying not to drown in sadness.

Benjamin, my gorgeous funny baby, was the straw that broke my back. My husband’s back isn’t feeling that strong lately. Despite all of the anger and sadness that I’ve felt about other situations going on in our lives, I’ve kind of kept my shit together. That house of cards built with hopes and optimism blew up.

glass of piss

Last Thursday, the cards lying on the table spontaneously combusted. More bad news medically which hit me (and the ones I love, especially my Mom) with a savage blow in a very vulnerable place. I’ll tell you about that later. A few hours later, my car broke down. I broke a nail. And I realized I had been walking around with my fly down for the last few hours. Friends received hysterical phone calls.

I hate this.

My heart feels like it’s in a perpetual state of being broken. Every time I think I’ve hit rock bottom, the rug gets ripped out from under me, and I fall again. I feel like Pigpen, except I carry a cloud of misery wherever I go. I am sick of asking for prayers or good thoughts or good vibes. I want to generate good mojo on our own. I’m sick of people being worried about me. I’m sick of being the hot mess of a friend. At one point, my Dad told my husband that we’ve had the worst streak of luck lately. I don’t want to be that person.

I told a friend that my life felt like the bastard child of a telenova and a Lifetime special – just with a lot less sex, less Valerie Bertinelli or Leanne Rimes and no affairs with gorgeous Hispanic lovers, begging me not to leave them.  I’m actually very grateful for the less Leann Rimes part.

After a brief period of wading in the shallow end of the drama pool in my early 20s, I got the hell out. So many people wallow in their miseries and drama their entire lives. If you’re going through a bad experience, they make sure to tell you about how theirs was worse. If you’re dealing with an illness, they’ll one-up you with some mysterious malady. I refer to it as going for the gold medal at the Oppression Olympics. That’s an award I have no interest in winning. But I feel like I’m stuck in quicksand right now. I want out, but I keep getting sucked back in.

There are the people that tell you that you need to focus on all the good things in your life. I do that on an almost daily basis. I have my husband who’s been a rock through all of this, even as he grieves. My Mom and my Dad have supported me in more ways than I can possibly list. I have friends that care about me. I have a church where I can find support. I have a pastor who understands why I’m so angry at God and who doesn’t try to placate me with platitudes. I am truly grateful for all of those things, but that doesn’t make the pain and anxiety I’m feeling disappear.

The next group are the people that remind you that there are people suffering far more than you in this world. That the situation we’re in could be so much worse. And you know what? I am aware of that. I’m aware of the privilege I automatically get being a white, well-spoken, educated woman born in this country. I get all these things. But knowing that some mother in a third country is holding her baby while he dies of dysentery doesn’t make me feel better. Knowing that some gay teen in Kansas is living his own private hell of bullying and/or having to deny who he really is on a daily basis? That doesn’t make me feel any better either. That friend of mine just diagnosed with a life-threatening disease? Hooray! At least I don’t have that. I think you’re a bit of a sociopath if you find comfort in this way of thinking.

Some people find comfort in the idea that trials in life are just the way God tests you. So God killed Marcus’ dad, Cleo, Mira, Sam, Mama-cat  and Benjamin in order to make us stronger? That’s not my God. That kind of God is the same jackass who blew apart Job’s life in order to win a bet with the devil. Nice guy, huh?

Life is hard. And sometimes it’s one thing after another, over and over. I don’t think God causes these things to happen. I think these things just happen in life. And you have some very simple choices to make. Do you stop going on or do you keep going on? I hope my choice of the latter option is evident. And if you have faith, do you keep it or toss it? I’m working really hard on keeping mine.

I think the God that wrestled with Jacob is totally OK with me calling him an asshole and telling him to go fuck himself.  Because he understands that life is hard, and no matter how much He may want to comfort me, He has to let me rage and scream and struggle with my faith before I can find my way back to Him. Faith is not certainty and doesn’t come with soft pink lights and halos – if you’re certain, you don’t have to have faith. Faith is messy. It’s crawling through the trenches. It’s something that waxes and wanes. It’s the struggle to believe even when there seems to be no good reason to continue.

After writing several posts about grief, a few of you have emailed me looking for advice about dealing with grief. And you know what? I don’t know what the hell to tell you to do. I wish I had some wisdom to throw down on you, but I’m not doing so hot myself.

My suggestions? Be a hot mess for a while? Burst into tears at inappropriate times in public places? I think my best tip is not to wear disposable contacts while crying; they wear out quicker. Buy Kleenex with lotion. Let people be kind to you. Let yourself feel numb for a while – it’s your body’s way of protecting you. After that, get your grief and anger out in any way possible so you don’t take it out on yourself. Develop routines to force you to do good things for yourself. Right now, mine is yoga. Try to remember the good things in your life, but also remember that the bad things are allowed to overwhelm you at times. You don’t have to be rational and logical all the time.

People keep telling me it will be OK. To hang in there. You know what? I don’t think it’s necessary to have a stiff upper lip when the pain is so fresh. It’s OK to lose your shit for a while. In fact, please sequester yourself for a while from friends that are going to give you the ‘Cheer up Buckeroo’ speech. You don’t need to hear that when the pain is still fresh. Things will eventually get better, and you’ll find your way to the light. But when the darkness envelops you like a heavy quilt? You don’t need to look for the sunny side. You can be upset. You can be scared. You can rage. You can grieve. You can be mad at the world or karma or God or whatever you believe in. It’s OK.

Why did I write this post? I’m really not sure. Some of it was a form of therapy. Seeing the words written on the screen makes the pain feel more real, and I want to get as much of this pain out as possible. I also want to let those of you who ask me how to deal with grief know that there is no right way to do it. It’s messy, and no one has the answers for your grief. Suggestions? Yes. But actual answers? Only snake oil salesmen would sell you that idea. I wanted to share my faith – not some aqua-netted televangelist-styled version where as long as you follow the rules and stay away from gay people, you get a gold ticket into heaven. My faith is a lot messier and harder than that. I wanted to provide a blog that isn’t all train wreck and drama, nor a screed to a “Look how wonderful my life is”. But that means it’s a blog where the train might get derailed sometimes. And I wanted to share more of myself on my blog this year. This is Kristina – hot mess and bourbon and bacon and biscuits and all.

I feel like I’ve lost the capacity to write in any cohesive manner (I’ll give myself credit that it’s a bit difficult to do while bawling) so I’ll end with this. Go hug every furry and non-furry member of your family. Be kind to yourself and others. Eat more pie.

35 Comments on Faith is a Struggle Especially When You Think God Sucks

  1. Libbie Summers
    March 22, 2013 at 3:15 pm (2 years ago)

    Thank you for this. You are a gifted writer. I’m sorry about your cats (That was a big step for me). I’m eating pie.

    Reply
    • Kristina
      March 22, 2013 at 4:00 pm (2 years ago)

      Thank you so much. And can you eat some pie for me? We’re fresh out right now.

      Reply
    • Kristina
      March 22, 2013 at 4:31 pm (2 years ago)

      Jennifer – it’s not lame at all. Sometimes that’s all you can say. As long as you mean it, it helps the person hurting when you say it.

      I loved some of the ideas on that list. There were a few that I vociferously disagree with, but some very good advice too. Thank you for sharing that.

      Reply
  2. Darlynne
    March 22, 2013 at 4:01 pm (2 years ago)

    I might start hugging complete strangers.

    Rage, rant, swear, weep, question, yell until you’re hoarse, until you don’t have to. Then be prepared to do it all again.

    Kristina, you may not think you’re writing cohesively, but I have to tell you–and I realize how little it matters RIGHT NOW–this entire post is clear, honest, and by all that’s holy, one of the best things you’ve written. Which is saying a lot because I am always so touched and impressed by the way the thoughts in your head come alive on the page.

    Be the hot mess and keep the Kleenex with lotion close.

    Reply
    • Kristina
      March 23, 2013 at 11:28 am (2 years ago)

      I’ve hugged random strangers before. Surprisingly, I’ve never gotten punched.

      And thank you so much. I was just full of emotions, and they spilled out on the page. I wish more people were honest about their grief. It’s something we all go through, yet society tells us we need to go about it in a proper way. No we don’t. I think the “proper” way is just to get the hell through it, however you can.

      Reply
  3. Alicia (foodycat)
    March 22, 2013 at 4:33 pm (2 years ago)

    I don’t pray, so I don’t even have that to offer you. My heart was breaking when you tweeted that Benjamin was going to have to leave you. So much pain in such a short time. All I can say – which you know – is that it has to hurt until it doesn’t hurt so much.

    I am so, so sorry.

    Reply
    • Kristina
      March 23, 2013 at 11:30 am (2 years ago)

      You don’t have to offer prayers. Your sympathy is just as kind and thoughtful. Thank you so, so much.

      Reply
  4. marisa miller
    March 22, 2013 at 4:43 pm (2 years ago)

    Please remember that when it falls apart fucking horribly and you want to disappear that the Coen brothers still exist and no one is ever taking booze and xanax away from us again. I am very sorry about Benjamin.

    Reply
    • Kristina
      March 23, 2013 at 11:32 am (2 years ago)

      I know. Although my secret shame is ‘Pitch Perfect”. I’ve watched it more than 25 times. Also – there is bacon. That helps. Thank you so very much.

      Reply
  5. Genie
    March 22, 2013 at 4:45 pm (2 years ago)

    I’m with Darlynne on this — may all of my losing-my-shit-and-writing-incoherently sessions turn out this well.

    And I’m sorry that you’re going through all this, too. I agree with you that numbness can be one hell of a blessing, whether it’s natural or artificially created.

    Reply
    • Kristina
      March 23, 2013 at 11:34 am (2 years ago)

      Thanks Genie. The words just kind of got vomited out. And I agree numbness helps. It’s just hard to stay in that state for so long. I don’t do numb well, but it keeps getting forced on me.

      Reply
  6. The Modern Gal
    March 22, 2013 at 4:56 pm (2 years ago)

    I have so much I could say, but all I really want to say is, I’m sorry. I’m sorry for everything you’ve had to go through, and I’m sorry for the assholes who clearly don’t understand God, faith or what it is to grieve.

    And my offer still stands for a hug and maybe a good meal whenever you’re feeling up to it. I’m happy to be a punching bag if you need one :)

    (and Monty Python is the best — I love laughing at ridiculous things in the middle of grief. That kind of laughter feels so much stronger)

    Reply
    • Kristina
      March 23, 2013 at 11:37 am (2 years ago)

      Thanks Beth. I’m grateful that I’m not surrounded by too many of these assholes. I think I’ve scared them off for the most part.

      I’m dealing with some pretty heavy stuff this week. and it may roll into next. But I would love to grab a meal and get a huge hug from you.

      When we’re stressed, our humor gets very, very dark. It’s probably pretty offensive to quite a few people, but it helps us cope.

      Reply
  7. Kate (Southern Belle Simple)
    March 22, 2013 at 5:06 pm (2 years ago)

    I wasn’t sure what to expect when I read the intro of this post…all I can say is that for what it’s worth, another person out there (me) is thinking about you…hoping things improve and wishing the very best for you & your fam.

    I hate the hard stuff you’ve been going through. Please keep writing…it helps us all remember we’re in this together.

    Reply
    • Kristina
      March 23, 2013 at 11:43 am (2 years ago)

      Kate – I wrote that intro because I really just didn’t want to subject anyone to a anger fueled diatribe if they didn’t want to hear it. And my views on religion and God are 180 degrees from a lot of people – I didn’t want to subject them to that as well.

      Thank you for thinking good thoughts for me. That means a lot to me.

      I don’t think my posts offer any new illuminating insights on how to deal with the bad stuff life throws at you. I just wanted to stress the fact that all of us deal with grief and anger in different ways. As long as we don’t hurt people, any of the ways we handle it are OK.

      Reply
  8. Caitlin
    March 22, 2013 at 6:49 pm (2 years ago)

    Lots of love, hon. This is all feeling very Old Testament to me as well, even from the outside looking in. And the people with the platitudes can go fuck themselves – all those Smug McSmugersons aren’t smart enough to rebel against what life deals them. Their brains can’t encompass the grey areas, the times when you hate God and rail against Him. Because they can’t understand that under it all, what matters is that you believe, not that you’re sunshine and roses all the time. Life’s a struggle, and I think of you often, hoping things will begin to look up soon.

    Reply
    • Kristina
      March 23, 2013 at 11:48 am (2 years ago)

      Thanks sweetie. It helps knowing that I have amazing friends who care about me.

      “Their brains can’t encompass the grey areas, the times when you hate God and rail against Him. Because they can’t understand that under it all, what matters is that you believe, not that you’re sunshine and roses all the time. ”

      This. So much. My faith is not blind. It’s easy to have faith when you never really examine it or have it tested. They grey places are where you learn what faith really means.

      Reply
  9. Denise Rivers
    March 22, 2013 at 9:43 pm (2 years ago)

    I am guessing Jesus told God to fuck off a time or two. I also think this is why the entirety of his teen years are missing. We love you. Dead animals suck. Pie always helps a little. And Claire is fabulous (thank you for mentioning her greatness.) And if the shit you have been going through helps you write like this, then I will say it anyway, beauty has come from this pain.

    Reply
    • Kristina
      March 23, 2013 at 11:51 am (2 years ago)

      I laughed so hard about the teen years of Jesus. I love you too. And thank you. Sometimes the words just get vomited out on the page. I’d like to have more absurd and silly words to throw down.

      Reply
  10. Trevor Sis Boom
    March 23, 2013 at 10:45 am (2 years ago)

    The people that post those ‘inspirational gifs’ never see the irony that THEY are the messenger for only the most fucked up of my friends seem to feel so keen as to try to preach to me their meaningless platitudes. I don’t believe in god so I spare myself the fucked up mental game of trying to explain why the god that loves me fucks me over so every now and then. How anyone who has ever seen ads of starving children in whoknowswhere can then post a gif saying ‘God never gives you more than you can handle’ is beyond me. As they say, if he does exist, he has a lot of explaining to do.

    I have no platitudes or advice. Sometimes things just suck and I’m too choked up thinking of your grief and loss to muster anything now I know won’t help and only inconvenience you as you try to formulate a response. I do find it is somehow easier knowing it is NOT part of some god’s plan or a test of what I can bear. It just is and the only meaning it can have is what *I* give it.

    So sorry dear. I’m going to go play with my cat now and tell her I will take care of her no matter what.

    Reply
  11. Kristina
    March 23, 2013 at 12:20 pm (2 years ago)

    I have to agree with you on the inspiration GIFs thing. The thing is, I actually have a Pinterest board called “words mean things” because they do. Just not when they’re platitudes that offer generic words of “faith and comfort”. Telling someone that you’re sorry for what they’re going through and giving them a hug means so much more than than a gif any day of the week.

    I do have faith in a God that loves me – I’ve had too many things in my life that have given me hope. I often feel his presence when I’m hiking in the mountains. But you know what? It doesn’t matter if you’re Christian or Jewish or Muslim or a non-believer – life serves you a shit sandwich sometimes. And we don’t have to make sense of it – we can be pissed off and frustrated and rant and rave about it, no matter what we believe.

    And you might enjoy this quote – as a Christian, it reminds me that prayer is easy. It’s walking the walk that’s so hard.

    “This means,” the Master continued “that when someone reaches out to you for help, you should never say ‘I pray that God will help you.’ Instead for the moment, you should become an atheist, imagine that there is no God who can help, and say ‘I will help you.’”

    Thank you for caring. Give your cat a kiss from me.

    Reply
  12. Melissah
    March 23, 2013 at 9:24 pm (2 years ago)

    Kristina,
    Oh my god… your words ripped my heart to bits today. I’m so sorry. Truly. If I were closer I would bring Benton’s and Booker’s but from Florida all I can offer is this: it will get better. Grief has no rules. Mourn whatever, however, and whenever you need to. I lost my husband in 2004 and I can promise that every rule of mourning was busted all to Hell (or Seymour) and back. I broke down at Kroger’s and threw frozen vegetables at the cases the first time I went shopping for one. And then there were the multiple times I ran out of gas all over East Tennessee becz I forgot to check the gauge becz that was his job. Yeah, and I cussed him (and God) at the Funeral Home because I couldn’t speak “dog” and therefore couldn’t explain to our dogs that he wasn’t coming back. And we won’t even talk about the day i had hysterics at the Coach counter at Dillards in Westown when I saw Christmas decorations and the grief lightning hit as I realized my Christmas would have no “Santa” gifts anymore. Yes, all ridiculous, all absurd, and all valid mourning. So grief sucks, but one day it will suck less. But it never leaves entirely, it just becomes manageable suckage. Like the rest of life. Hug everyone. Eat bacon. And know that lots of people who don’t post gifs care.

    Reply
    • Kristina
      March 26, 2013 at 9:56 pm (1 year ago)

      Oh honey – I can’t even imagine the grief you must have felt. None of those were ridiculous or absurd. That’s so much to process and bear all by yourself. I’ve only lost it at yoga classes, the Fellini Kroger (but no one looks twice there) and out to dinner the other night.

      And I agree – the grief never goes away. It just becomes easier to bear. The memories that turn you into a puddle of jelly for the first year become bittersweet after some time. And then you’ll actually be able to tell a funny story without breaking down. And then, later on the Grief Express rides its way into your heart again and sucker punches you.

      I wish I could give you a hug and we could eat bacon together. And thank you for caring. I’ll be thinking about you as well.

      Reply
  13. fldivegirl
    March 23, 2013 at 9:43 pm (2 years ago)

    My heart goes out to you, really. I have no soothing words but want you to know many others out here feel like you do. You will get through this. Your writing about it to all of us tells me you will heal. It is not easy and may take a long time but you will heal trust me.
    Diana

    Reply
    • Kristina
      March 26, 2013 at 9:58 pm (1 year ago)

      Sometimes just knowing that we’re all trying to navigate our way through this crazy world helps. Thank you so much for your kind words.

      Reply
  14. Lisa
    March 24, 2013 at 2:28 am (2 years ago)

    I am so glad that you’re here to bring sense to the feelings jumbling around in my head. I’ve recently suffered a loss. I’ve wished there was a book, or I had a friend who would have told me how messy this was going to be. Thank you for reminding me that everything doesn’t have to be alright.

    Reply
  15. Heidi
    March 25, 2013 at 4:01 am (2 years ago)

    I just send you a mega super huge enormous big hug!

    Reply
    • Kristina
      March 26, 2013 at 9:58 pm (1 year ago)

      Thank you Heidi! Just sent you a huge one back. :)

      Reply
  16. Sherri
    March 27, 2013 at 5:39 pm (1 year ago)

    I just read this post from last week as I only now found the time that I knew would be necessary to really read it and not blow through it. I just want you to know you have a “virtual friend” down in FL thinking of you. I was so sad when you lost your first 2 kitties (that was right when I started reading your blog!) and now this… I am so very sorry, and I appreciated your honest post. I’ve been so angry at God in the past, too, and you voiced so many feelings that I’ve had (but was afraid to say?) Thank you for your honesty and sincerity. And just know that I’m thinking of you & Marcus as you grieve all of these losses & attempt to recover & find happiness again…

    Reply
  17. Tori Taff
    April 6, 2013 at 11:11 am (1 year ago)

    Ok, I like you.
    The fact that this is my heartfelt response to reading the above post probably says more about me than you, but still. Having spent my entire adult life with a front row seat to ‘professional Christianity’ (at least in the music biz end), I heartily appreciate your honesty as well as the proper placement of your swear words. Not everyone who loves God has the ability to carry off both things with such panache.
    My 96 year old mother just died in her sleep. I am starting to tire of trying to be all, “We were so lucky to have her as long as we did!” and “I know she’s happy with Daddy now!” though I actually believe both of those things. But meanwhile? I’m a 56 year old orphan, and if the universe doesn’t mind, I intend to feel a little sorry for myself for just a short while. Because I miss her, and my Dad too. Terribly.
    So, yeah. I like you.

    Reply
  18. Liz Smith
    April 6, 2013 at 6:46 pm (1 year ago)

    hey. i just wanted to let you know that i stumbled upon your blog today while looking for a recipe for dinner… and now i’ve been reading it for the past hour and a half. this really touched me. while i read this one of my 4 cats decided he wanted to drink the water out of the bowl my chicken was thawing in and dumped about a gallon of water onto my floor WITH the chicken… but you know what? I friggen love my cat(s)… and would rather use 3 rolls of paper towel and spend 25 minutes cleaning up a mess like that then EVER be without him/them. i lost my best bud… about 2 years ago… that cat was the world to me… and it will NEVER stop hurting. i get the god thing… i have faith and all that shit. but my god HAS to have an understanding that sometimes i friggen hate him… and he DEFINITELY gives me more than i can handle at times. thank you for blogging… it’s funny how close you can feel to someone and the comfort you can get without ever even meeting them.

    Reply
  19. Michelle
    July 4, 2013 at 4:19 am (1 year ago)

    Hey there,
    I came across your blog while Googling “God sucks,” haha sounds stupid and immature I know but I’ve been really angry with God lately too. It was nice to finally hear someone being real, expressing their true God-given emotions. I hope your 2013 turns around for you and becomes your best year to date.

    Best wishes,
    Michelle

    Reply
    • Kristina
      August 20, 2013 at 2:05 pm (1 year ago)

      Thanks Michelle. I’ve always figured God’s big enough to deal with my anger, even thought it’s not his fault. Like I said, Faith is a struggle. I feel like if you’re certain every moment of the day about your faith, you might not be completely honest with yourself. I hope 2013 is a wonderful year for you!

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  20. jw
    December 7, 2013 at 6:35 pm (10 months ago)

    Thank you for this. I lost my Bruce today, out of nowhere, he just died overnight. I went to feed him and he was gone. I have prayed to Jehovah (I am a Jehovah’s Witness) to protect my little guys just to the extent of their natural lives but He does not. I have lost 3 in the last year and I have lost my best friend (a person, Bobby, 54 years old) and I wonder why does this suffering just keep going. Many say that these are the end times but the apostles believed that too and its 2000 years later and everything’s the same. I have begun to hate God for this suffering and I don’t get the point. JWs will say that He is giving everyone a chance, but by that logic, this will go on forever because there will always some one new being born, to infinity. I am alone and lost and the pain is overwhelming. Thank you for your honesty and caring. It is a comfort that someone feels like I do and isn’t reading me some stupid scripture about how God loves me or His promise for the new world. I live now and it sucks.

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