The storm has passed, the wrestle continues

I do not know how to start this entry really, lots of things happened and nothing happened at the same time. I am currently listening to Torija, from Torroba, one of my favorite guitar pieces ever. It feels like home. I even wrote a poem for it:

"Allá en mi hogar, hay una flor,

que se alza bajo el cielo añil.

Ella me vio nacer y crecer, 

hasta que del lugar me fui.

Aquella flor, hoy ya no está,

al yo no estar, se marchitó.

Al yo volver a aquel lugar,

solo su recuerdo pude encontrar". 

This morning I woke up to my priest friend's messages telling me to just go with the flow, to allow suffering and offer it. I know his intentions were good, that he was giving me the very same theology I've been reading about and even posted here before. But I've realized that that's not for me. I cannot  bear the sense of lack of control, to leave my lie to other's choices, even if the Being choosing is perfect and almighty. I wore off my scapular for the first time in a really, really long time. I put away from the nightstand the books, the bible, the medals that I gathered as a reminder of my faith and amulets of protection. I got naked, and it felt weird, like I was pulling aside things I loved, things that gave me meaning, a sense of belonging, that gave me a center. The weirdest thing was the scapular, I had a real physical relief when I put it off, I guess that rejecting Christ's yoke had to feel like getting a heavy load out of my shoulders.

I am spiritually weak, I do not have the fortitude to carry on the suffering without a clear answer, to seek and not find, to ask and not receive,  to understand that God acts as He pleases and that the ultimate state of union becomes from the isolation of the dark. I am out of the inner castle, or maybe I was never able to get in to begin with.

I am not renouncing to my faith by any means, I am a strong believer after seeing this much, I love God my Lord with every inch of my being and every remnant of my spirit, I do know He's real. It's just that I need some time to think about, to seek, to have answer, to be confronted like Job in the ash heap. 

I am wrestling with God, as the ball is now on his ceiling. It's up to Him to reach me, to answer me, to give me a clear sign, or I won't go back, because the consolations I've been given; the mass, the community, the life that I am living, are not enough. Maybe I cannot see the big picture, the blessings that came along due to my illness, the people I met, the person I became, the preparation all this suffering is doing me towards fatherhood. Maybe my scope has been severely reduced by anger. I do not know, and neither do I think I will figure it out soon. Maybe I'm wrong. I have no clue.

I wrote back to a person I knew long ago, this internet persona I met by pure chance, did some sort of weird reading to me and got exactly the color of my underwear without any kind of data. She's from a christian environment, then became a satanist, but that's not a problem, since when I reached for her, she gave me a really good insight: "You cannot fear the God you are supposed to love". I hope she answers back.

I also wrote to friends of mine; the one who first introduced me to faith, who didn't really said much, just gave me his support and said he would pray for me, same as he's done through all my adventure, and the other I met during the journey, who offered me presence,  which may not appear to be relevant, but its something to take into account; to be accepted, supported even, by someone so different yet so similar.

Lastly, I spoke to my fiancée; she called me this morning as she read what I posted recently with a gentle crying. She who has seen me strive constantly against pain and adversities, who saw me becoming a man of faith and supported me through all the way, praying with me, going to pilgrimages, converting even after so much. The person I hope to be the mother of my children saw me break from within, and all she could tell me was to not stop believing, to not reject God. And I won't, because I love her, because even if she's not a theologian,  she's my morning star, and I have to keep this struggle until I find something out, to keep wrestling with the angel until the blessing comes like it or not.

This morning I went for a walk. The gentle rain washed away the anger, the sea acted as a witness of the inner conversation I was having.

I do not know where to go, if I will go back to studying other way to get the bread it's owed to me. Nonetheless, I've decided to become my own sun in the mean time, to keep pushing for a better tomorrow, as for now, until God comes back, it's entirely up to me. Once I surrendered to the will of my father. This time I won't. I've grown up. 

Thank you everyone. I will be under the juniper tree until the angel comes, working studying, improving, for when the moment of being fed and told to arise comes, I want to be prepared.