It has been two and a half years since I lost my faith and my foundation. I thought that I would heal. I healed from my parents' divorce. I healed from my own divorce. I have healed from every trauma life has thrown at me. But not this one. I feel like Prometheus must have felt chained to the rock of his eternal torment. Every time he felt the wound sealing shut, that damn bird would start squawking in the distance and it would begin all over again. Unlike Prometheus, I have no Hercules to rescue me.
I have been trying to come up with a plausible theory as to why I can't move on as so many others do. This is what I have so far:
- The Church is an integral part of me (see my last post for more on this one)
- My children are a part of it.
- And the newest, most difficult to reconcile with: maybe I am wrong.
I hurt- deeply, profoundly, in a place I didn't know could hurt so much for so long.
I can talk to God as long as I want- and He doesn't answer me anymore.
I disagree with so many of the beliefs of the Mormon church that I can't understand why anything about them matters to me anymore.
I want my children to be safe and happy, and I don't feel that my children are safe belonging to a group that will use their love for the group to hurt them.
What does any of this mean? I don't know. All that I know is that none of these ideas belong together. All I know is that this well of pain has not run dry, and I am beginning to believe that it may never dry up.
When does it end?
I can't answer that.
The agony in my soul continues.