It’s been two years since I’ve visited this space. Two years waiting and wandering. I wasn’t sure if I would ever come back. I’m not who I was. Innocence has been lost. All the things I thought I had figured out in my twenty’s are now questions again.
I feel softer and jaded. I have no answers; and I’m not even sure I want them anymore.
Somewhere along the way I lost God, or God lost me. It was on a beach in North Carolina. I yelled at God from the waves because death had found me. One was the death of a child on the cusp of manhood; the other was the death of a friendship that had been a cornerstone of who I was. I was gutted and grieving. I yelled at God on the beach and thought that was the end of it.
I came home and continued plugging away. It took me months to realize I had said goodbye to religion on that beach. Several more months to say out loud that God was dead to me—being intentionally dramatic so it felt a little less final.
I could pretend. I bowed my head as appropriate. I could say the right words. I could nod along when others spoke of God. All the right motions that had been ingrained in me since I was eight years old. But where there had once been something on the other side, now it felt blank, a white sheet of paper…nothing there.
It’s been two years. I’ve played my part well. But I feared coming back to this space because this is where I can’t fake it. Writing has always been sacred…I can’t hide here. I can’t write pretty things for the sake of the pretty words and cute turns of phrases. Writing has always been spiritual for me. It’s where I’ve found God and God has found me and I was scared of what would happen on this other side. But here I am. Without any answers.