I Am Still Searching For A Higher Power

I’ve spent my life searching for a higher power. When I was a child, it was a Catholic God. After my father died and some time in two different Catholic schools, I decided I didn’t like that God. I was angry at that God, but I still wanted him to love me; I still prayed for his approval. As an adult, I don’t feel the need to appease a giant man in the sky, although I still sob every time I hear “The Lamb of God Who Takes Away the Sin of the World.”

My biggest belief is that anything is possible. I don’t close the door of possibility to any religion or spiritual practice—that’s not for me to judge. That doesn’t mean I don’t disagree with things or that there aren’t practices I would ever partake in. What it really means is that I mind my business and respect others as long as they do the same.

I’m no saint. I like to smoke pot to relax or sometimes just to giggle. I do enjoy a cocktail, although I am refraining during this chapter of my life. I need to FEEL, and those things make me numb. I don’t have time for numb right now. So while I’m doing this feeling thing, I need to lean on my higher power, because it is hard. It hurts more than any one thing I’ve ever endured, because right now, I’m enduring all of the pain of all of my experiences at once. I am letting it all flow; I’m not holding back. IT HURTS.

I am lucky that I have good friends and that my children and my brother are always here for me. I have burdened them a lot through this, and I don’t wish to do that anymore. I think I’m getting better, it may not always feel that way to my support people. Actually, no. They do see that I am getting better, I’m still working on not putting myself down, not considering myself a burden, that’s not how they see me, that’s how I see me.

Back to this higher power! I’ve searched high and low, I’ve been part of church communities, “inspirational” communities (that would be what my children refer to as my cult period), Wiccan and Pagan practices; at one point, I became an ordained minister and considered going to get a degree in Theology. And let’s not forget those giant Buddha paintings on my walls, and oh yeah, the statues around the house and on the front porch.

For a long time, Love was my religion. I suppose in some ways, it still is.

Regardless of the heartache I’ve endured, regardless of the pain and the loss, I believe in love. I believe we are meant to share our joy and affection with another. Maybe I’ll have that again one day. If not, my life will still be full. I have known true love as a wife, as a mother, and now as a grandmother (the sweetest love of all!).

I am not the bitter, resentful woman I feared I would become. My heart is open, but so are my eyes. With my innocence gone and my need to please extinguished, I am no longer a maiden or young mother, I am the wise Crone and I welcome this chapter.