Fussing With God Again

And here I was thinking that I had this suffering business down pat. I thought I had it licked. Thought I had learned enough through suffering that I would not have to suffer anymore. Or rather, that suffering would no longer hold the pain that I had been forced by life and circumstance to endure.

I thought that because CFS no longer had me in its grip that I would sail through life unobstructed by pain anymore. I could not have been more wrong. For, while some things have changed, others have remained the same and I find myself caught up in the despair of wanting change to come a lot faster and sooner than it is transpiring in my life.

I looked back at some of the things that I have written in this blog and wonder where I took a turn for the worst. For I have been complaining inwardly and quite recently outwardly to God. I’ve been fussing with Him again and that does not please me. I’m fussing because I seem to be existing and not living life. I am fussing because I had been so happy not so long ago, though it seems like it has been ages now in my current station of suffering.

Suffering takes on many forms and my present suffering may not seem to be very important in the eyes of some. But for me, it is debilitating. It is stifling me. I struggle. I bemoan my fate and I cry.

I cry because I am not the person I was when I was in the midst of suffering with CFS. I wonder where that fighter in me went. Did it go along with the illness? Did my suffering keep me strong instead of this scared-to-enter-the-world person that I am at this present moment?

I suffer because I am afraid to live. It has been so long since I have been a part of life that I have forgotten how to LIVE LIFE. Instead, I find myself drifting through the days…waiting. Waiting for…something. Something more than THIS. This…this…I know not what “this” even is. And so I wait. And I yearn. (And, yes, I complain.)

Suffering is speaking to me again and I do not want to hear what it has to say. I only want for it to end. Yet, that is not the way that suffering works. The more you resist suffering’s voice, the louder that voice becomes. And it is fairly shouting at me. In my complaint, however, I have been unable to decipher what suffering is trying to impart to me. But I am beginning to listen.

The more suffering is resisted, the more it hurts. And I am so very tired of hurting. I think that I will relax my grip and allow this unwanted teacher to show me the way out of my present misery.

I want more. More out of life. And less of this…whatever it is that is plaguing me. (I cannot define it. Only feel it.) I am going to have to go back to the lesson of patience and relearn its values and make it part of me again.

Instead of fussing with God, I must pull out my tools that I have acquired through suffering and work through these current circumstances until I am standing in the path of victory again. Instead of bemoaning my fate, I must “suck it up” because I am presently mucking it up through complaint and ingratitude. That mindset must change.

Nothing worthwhile in life comes easy. Suffering certainly does not. I am the only one who can determine that what is worthwhile is worth the suffering that I must do in order to obtain what rightfully belongs to me.

I am exchanging fussing with God with pouring my heart out in this blog. For this is where my suffering belongs. This is where suffering has meaning.


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