Her BrainStorm

The days following the hospital discharge were nothing short of a horror movie script. No scripted verses to memorize here though. Hell on earth may have been a better description for the part I was involuntarily coerced to play out — naturally. Wandering around the house in circles wondering where I am. Wondering what year we are in… wondering if I had a family… confusion takes the life out of me. What time is it? It’s 9:00 a.m. Oh, I wonder what the difference is between AMs and PMs. Who comes up with this stuff anyway? I’ve regressed and am unable to gauge reality.

My life is turned upside down overnight. Wow, talk about unforeseen circumstances! I can’t remember what happened to me. I know I had brain surgery but maybe something went terribly wrong. This can’t be real. I’m still a character in a horror film that never “wraps” or breaks. I am placed in a translucent bulletproof glass coffin and buried eight-feet under. Sounds are muffled. I can also “see” everything around me; yet no one can see me. The hustle-and-bustle of life happening all around; yet no one can see me. I am later deemed legally disabled by the State of Virginia. Jesus.

Speaking of which… Who is [He] anyway? I think I used to worship Him. From what I remember, He’s a God. But Who is God? Is Jesus God? He’s a God that’s three-in-one? Nonsense. How is that even possible? The Southern Baptist church teaches that He is 3-in-1… He’s clearly not a shampoo bottle, so how does this whole God thing even work? Did Jesus ever claim to be God? Why did I worship Jesus if He’s One of the Three? I mean, wouldn’t the So-Called Father be jealous if we’re always just worshipping Jesus? After all, in the Godhead, the Father claims to be greater than Jesus. Even if everything in the Bible is proven to be historically true and accurate, He doesn’t care about me anyway. So maybe He’s not Who I thought He was. Liar. And to think of all those times I devoted myself to lead Praise & Worship for Him and attending midweek rehearsals and showing up way earlier than the congregation on Sunday mornings for sound checks; sponsoring children in His Name; studying the Bible; and tithing to support His ministry must’ve been a waste of time. Clearly, nothing to reap for what I’ve sown here. Darn, what a waste of time. But hmmm… I kind of do wish I was one of the chosen ones. Because what if He IS real?!? But whatever… it’s not like I can really control the God of the universe anyway.

Thoughts of Christ’s tainted Name continue to run rampant in my head. Jesus F-ing Christ… over and over again like a broken record. Oh my gosh, I must be going crazy. Why do I continue to think of God’s Name in such a cursed way? I don’t curse. Neither in thought, and most certainly not in speech. The devil must be playing tricks on me. Even if God is real, He certainly doesn’t care about me anyway. Why would a loving God even put me through this hell-on-earth?!? Am I even on earth? What have I done? Maybe I’m not even alive. This is confusing for me. After all, I loved and served Him, right? If this is the God I serve, He’s clearly not reliable. Don’t trust Him. Matter of fact, I want NOTHING to do with Him. I’m not one of the chosen ones anyway. I struggle with these incessant thoughts of God, day-in and day-out. Soon after, God becomes completely unreal to me. An oxymoronic mystic Being so real… yet so unreal. Without God, there is no longer meaning to my life. I want death.