An Indifferent God?

There’s never been a time in my life that I questioned the existence of God. Although as a child I was taught not to question anything I was told about God and the word, I find myself with more and more inquiries. I have, and still do, question the logic and truthfulness of some of the things in the Bible. And even though I practice Christianity I feel that all religions have their validity.

The latest in my list of religious rhetorical questions: what if God is just indifferent to our lives? Like the little day to day minutia of it all. The things we pray about but never seem to get anywhere with. What if it all is just a matter of luck? Or a matter of what you do to make things happen?

The thing that got me thinking about this today was reading about a young woman who started a cosmetic company that has been picked up by Macy’s. How did she get her startup money? She just happened to be in the audience the day Oprah gave everyone a brand new car. (Y’all remember: “You get a car! And you get a car! Everyone gets a new caaaarrrr!” *in my Oprah voice*) Since she had a car, she sold that one and had the money to pursue her dream.

Her story is absolute awesome sauce, the stuff that dreams are made of. But my question is why are some people recipients of such amazing fortune and others are left to scuffle to make ends meet? Why are some people blessed with great families and some with those plagued by abuse or addiction or poverty? Why do some folks have a string of bad luck and others seemingly are cruising down Easy Street?

I’ve heard preachers proselytizing that to be blessed you have to be living according to the Bible. Just yesterday the preacher mentioned how John said that he received everything he asked from God, and that if we aren’t receiving everything we ask then apparently something is wrong with us. But how does that explain the folks who are living good and never asked God for anything because they don’t even believe in Him? Or the millionaires and billionaires who attained their riches by cheating others? How does that explain folks who are living the best that they can and try to follow the scriptures but still struggle financially, physically, emotionally, etc. all throughout life? I can’t reconcile that idea of how good you are equates to how good you live when reality is showing me a completely different story.

So I’m thinking maybe God really just doesn’t care. Sure, He cares about the stuff like your soul, but whether or not you recover from that tumor that’s causing indescribably painful headaches or ever find someone who truly loves you or recover from a traumatic incident… Well, maybe that’s on his clutter list. I’m thinking He’s left it all up to us and fate to make something happened.

Make A Move

I’m finally doing it. I’m making steps toward moving out of my parents’ house. It’s not the ideal situation, honestly. The plan was to move once I found a house I wanted to buy and could do so without having to work multiple jobs. Alas, that is not the case. The second job has been found, the apartment shortlist is down to two and as soon as I get that chunk of change from the part time gig I’m saying adios to Casa del Whitley.

I have mixed feelings on the whole thing. The question of why I couldn’t have the type of parents who were happy to see their offspring grow and thrive and become their own person in their own place living their own life is always at the forefront of my mind. But the why doesn’t really matter now, does it? I would love to have the type of folks my friends have, who encourage and help them find a place without acting as if them leaving the nest is some sort of betrayal. But I don’t, and the decision to move instead is the result of an increasingly strained relationship with my parents and pressure (both internally and externally) to “grow up.” (I thought I was doing a fairly decent job on the “adult” thing: working, paying my own bills, no kids, no STDs… but anyway… I digress.)

The desire to escape for my own peace of mine is almost matched by the fear of not being able to handle it. What if I absolutely hate this part time job and end up quitting—or being fired? Yeah I’ll have enough to pay rent but what about eating? Gas to get to work? What happens then? Or what if something awful happens and I’m screwed because I don’t have any extra money to use as a cushion? I cannot—will not—go to my parents asking for help. In fact, I refuse to ask for help now. (After a bad incident with my father the summer after I graduated from college and was still looking for a job, I vowed to NEVER ask for anything from him and to reject whatever he offered. On GP I don’t ask momma for anything either, but I know if she offers something it’s because she truly wants to help, so I’m slightly more open to accepting.)

Whatever happens, the wheels are set in motion now. I hate the thought of giving up a (mostly) comfy life for one of (possible) struggle, but it’s so heavy on me that if I don’t make a move now I never will. Trying to make up for lost time, overcome stunted growth…

Meh, I’m getting slightly emotional (read: pissed) and my thoughts are starting to jumble so I might as well just end this here.

Morning Quickie: Certificate of Singleness

Last night, after being accused of being secretly married for the umpteenth time (don’t ask) I had a brilliant idea. Wouldn’t it be great if there was a certificate of singleness? It sounds silly, but think about it! What if you could avoid the drama of unknowingly being the other woman (or other man) simply by verifying a document? I mean, marriage is verifiable by the license (and yes, I am well aware that nobody actually carries their marriage license around; we’re talking hypotheticals here, people!). 

Picture it: after a little bit of flirty convo with the guy at the coffee shop/bar/bookstore/wherever, he decides to holla.

Him: So, can I call you sometime, maybe go out to dinner?
You: Yeah that would be nice…
Him: *grinning*
You: One thing though. I gotta see your certificate.
Him: *nervous laugh* Certificate? Girl I got a degree!
You: *dry laugh* You know the certificate I mean! Let me see your certificate of singleness.
Him: Aight. *pulls out certificate* There, see?
You: Dude, this expired two years ago. What’s up with that?
Him: Well, you know… I just haven’t gotten around to renewing it…
You: *pulls out phone to scan via app* Yeah…. It says this is null and void. Deuces!

Okay, I know there may be some kinks in my plan, but I still think it’s pretty freakin brilliant.

What Is Your Passion?

Is there just one? More than one? Do you have any?

*stream of consciousness here folks. sorry if i ramble*

While reading and researching for a class I thought I’d be teaching on Finding Your Purpose in Life & Work, I found a Venn diagram saying that purpose is a combination of your talents, values and passion. I could easily identify my talents and values. I’m a skilled writer, a pretty good public speaker (even though I hate it), I tend to look at situations & problems differently in order to come up with a creative solution. I value individuality & authenticity, self-development & improvement, knowledge, creativity, peace of mind.

But what am I passionate about?

Recently this question was posed to me and I didn’t have an answer. Sure, I've had things that I was passionate about at the moment, but that waned… so was it really passion or just a strong interest? I’ve been passionate about writing but I don’t know if I’d say I still am. I still love it and want to do it; I think the reality of how rarely writers “make it” have dampened it somewhat. And the jewelry-making… am I passionate about it? I enjoy it, definitely. I don’t look forward to the business side. I want to continue and possibly take it to the next level, but I’ll be okay if it remains a hobby that brings in a little money on the side. That’s why I don’t consider that a passion. I really, really, REALLY want to try coaching/consulting to help people be happier, more productive, and at peace. But will that be fleeting like everything else?

Maybe my passions simply evolve over time. Nothing says that passion has to last forever, right? After all, when I’m into something, I do have that “strong affection or enthusiasm” for it. But then it fades and I’m left to pursue something else.

Is it possible to live without any passion at all? Surely it is, but wow, that has to be a sad existence.

Morning Quickie: That Sinking Feeling

You know, the dread before the big blow. It’s coming, there’s no denying it. You try to hype yourself up, buttress yourself against the inevitable. Give yourself reasons why this is actually a good thing. Paint pretty scenarios in your mind about how things can be better once this storm passes over. And none of it is a lie. You know this too will pass and eventually you will be able to look back on it as a lesson learned. You will be able to see how things just aren’t right at the present time and you will be glad that a change came, whether it was voluntarily or not.

But along with that hope and optimism comes the sinking feeling. It may be a faint, underlying emotion. It may feel as if it is going to overtake you at any moment. There will probably be times when you’ll flip flop between the two. Maybe it’s there because you are afraid of losing your comfort zone. Maybe it’s because you feel like you’re giving up, even if you’ve done all you can do.

Maybe there’s no avoiding it. Doesn’t feel like there is. Don’t fight it, but don’t let it pull you under. In time you’ll know for sure that this is for the best.

Perhaps It's Not PMS, But YOU

In our society women are given a free range on emotion, with the exception being anger--that is the realm of the male. We somehow are supposed to swallow everything, be quiet and calm and accepting of whatever craziness is hurled at us. A lot of us (myself included) internalize this way of thinking & decide to "go along to get along" since it's easier. Why not just suppress the negative feelings and "deal with it" through shopping or cleaning or overeating or drinking!

 But this bites us in the ass. When we do get angry and decide that it's time to say something, or even simply passionately disagree about whatever the topic may be, most men and even some other women will categorize it in one of two ways. Either you're a bitch, cut and dry, or (the lesser of two evils) you're PMSing. Because anger is so unpleasant. And of course a lady strives to be pleasant at all times. After all, aren't women here to please everyone?

 No.

 Women have just as much right to express their frustrations as our male counterparts. So why do so many feel that frustration must be due to some hormonal imbalance as opposed to a legitimate gripe? It's nothing but a means for folks to pass the blame and not take responsibility when they've wronged or hurt a woman, intentionally or otherwise. Pride (another emotion that society lets men have but question in women) wont allow them to say "I'm sorry" so instead the woman has to be made to feel unstable, emotional, hormonal, crazy.

 And the most frustrating part? Once this accusation is made & you get pissed off at that, the retort is "see, I knew it." WTF kinda circular ass, Sarah Palin brand logic is that? 

 Heres a radical idea that you may or may not have thought of. Perhaps it isn't that the woman you're dealing with is some extreme bitch or going through some hellified pms. Maybe, just maybe, the issue is YOU. Maybe you are annoying or stupid or just downright mean and have actually earned the ire you're receiving. It's likely that you'll never admit it, probably haven't even considered the possibility. But it could still be true.

 I think I should become a sacrificial lamb of sorts and just express anger and frustration indiscriminately. Yes, it goes against my (usually) calm, peaceful nature. Yes I'll be seen as the stereotypical "angry black woman" that I can't stand. Yes, I'd be labelled a bitch by some. But hey, the way I see it, that's got to be better than being told what I think and feel are nothing more than a byproduct of a biological process.

No Shame

I feel like a hypocrite writing about No Shame (which is why this post is coming so late). After all, it is meant to shed light on the stigma surrounding mental health in the black community. It is meant to say "you don't have to be afraid or ashamed to get help if you need it, or even if you think you may need it."

But that's exactly what I am. Afraid and ashamed.

I am afraid of what people would say if they knew I had to go lie on someone's couch to figure out what was wrong with me. Afraid I'd be rejected if something is actually wrong with me. Ashamed of the weakness I feel. Shouldn't I be strong enough to handle everything I do? Shouldn't I just be happy that life isn't any worse than it is? After all, life now is a breeze compared to what my ancestors had to deal with, and they didn't have any shrinks. So what does it say about me that I think I need one?

But that's just the type of attitude that keeps us from living the full life we deserve. So many times we (I) try to apply logic to something that is illogical. I can't compare other folks' struggles to my own. All I can do is acknowledge that there is something that needs to be addressed. And I can't let ideas of "white folks' problems" and "black people don't..." stand in the way of that.