Heaven and Hell

Heaven and Hell

I used to think I understood the concepts of Heaven and Hell. Now… I’m not so sure anymore.

For as long as I can remember, I had faith in retribution. I had faith in karma. I had faith in the inevitable, unerring justice that God serves. I think, to sum it up, I had faith.

Every single time my father hit me, I had faith. God will ensure that he suffers for this blow. And for the next. And the next. And all the times he hit my mother, or my siblings. Every time he lashed out at us. I used to watch him with vacant pity, every time he launched into his hour long sermons about God and religion and success and morals- he knew nothing. He knew nothing of what was in store for him. I did. I knew, and God knew. And God would have my revenge. At least, that’s what I used to believe.

But nothing happened. His arm was never flayed as it rose to strike me. His tongue was never struck dumb mid diatribe. I convinced myself that it was wrong to expect a justice of biblical proportions, even though our suffering certainly would warrant it. I convinced myself that God works in silent ways. That He would pave our future paths with happiness in return for everything, every thorn we walked on. I clung on to my faith with such tenacity that I even accepted that I might not live to see my revenge come around to him, but it would come some day – I didn’t even care that I wouldn’t have the satisfaction of seeing it happen. I just knew that it would.

But justice, apparently, is a double edged sword. It cuts the one being served just as sharp as the one serving it. One particular time, I remember, my father had a particularly vicious episode. He starved us for three days as punishment for not throwing a wrapper away. Rather, he found an empty wrapper stuffed behind the clothes basket, and all Hell broke loose. The maid had left it there, and obviously, she denied it. I don’t blame her. It was clearly a lie of self preservation. What no one could’ve anticipated is that he would blow up quite so disproportionately. A semi third world war followed, in which my mom was threatened with divorce if she fed us on the sly, before we ‘confessed’. So for three days, we ate nothing. On the fourth day my youngest sister, who was five, decided to ‘confess’, and the drama ended. His storm had broken by then, and he gloated openly on how he’d taught us a lesson for lying. Lol. He’d definitely taught us a lesson for lying.

After that particular episode, I remember hating him with unparalleled vehemence. All my prayers began with “please, God” and ended with ‘”let him suffer in front of me”. And somehow, God heard me. Dad fell sick, a random crippling viral fever with severe body pains and a blinding headache. But even that ended up being our punishment as much as his, because for one week, one week till he was strong enough to resume his daily routine, we waited on him hand and foot, being constantly nagged. Constant, constant, constant nagging. Complaining and whining and sniping about how useless and incapable we all were- even that, even that was not his ‘lesson’ in return for ours.

I don’t know. I just don’t know. Am I earning Heaven, or is it just more of this Hell forever? My patience has near run out, all of ours has. I’m simply sick of being held accountable for every breath I take, because even every breath i take is dismissed- “you’re doing it wrong”. I have spent all my life, all my conscious life waiting for this ‘justice’, waiting for God to do something, anything, anything at all to teach this man, to show him for an instant how wrong, how inexpressibly wrong he is. He’s like the Pharaoh who condemned the first borns to die. Like the trials Job was sent. My mother says that we’re like three roaches under his boot, and he likes stepping on us a little at a time, and he enjoys watching us squirm. Which is true, really. He derives a perverse satisfaction from torturing us. From our persecution. Perched on his moral and financial Hugh ground, he’s in a position of complete, iron bound power, and he knows it.

We know it, too. I know it very well. Which is why, why I always turned to God for help. The man is Satan incarnate- but I’m not a saint. I’m just a human being, with human limitations and misgivings and a small amount of hope that somehow manages to claw out of the ground, every time he buries it. I’m just tired of suffering. Of listening, of answering. Of trying, trying, trying, and getting nothing but disappointments in return. There has to be a limit, some threshold to how much one person can take. And after so many years of nothing but watching him flourish while we wilt, I’m very close to mine.

I don’t think I can stop believing in God even if I tried to. I know He’s there. I know He’s watching everything, every single thing. He watches and He listens, and He knows. I guess I just have to accept that He’s simply never going to do anything about it, though.

As for me…. I’m too bitter for Heaven, and I’m already sick of Hell. I have nowhere left to go.


26 thoughts on “Heaven and Hell

  1. Stay strong – things will get better as long as you believe in yourself – it might take time but it will be worth it!!


  2. Be sure to check out my blog if you get the chance! Thanks – Beth!

    Liked by 1 person

  3. authkg says:

    I never read long post because I don’t have the time but this one I felt moved to read. Maybe you should change your prayer for His spiritual benefit rather than condemnation to hell or punishment. If you pray that one day God will manifest Himself to your father, a load of conviction will reach his heart. He my even go as far has apologizing and doing his best to develop and better relationship with his family. after all, God loves to manifest Himself in the impossible. be open hearted for your dad. Hate does not drive out evil, love does.


    • Tried that. Tried everything. The confusing part is that while my father deludes himself thinking that he’s very close to God, for some reason God seems to treat him that way too. It’s baffling, lol. But thank you. It means so much to me that you read it all and stopped to send me good wishes. I really appreciate your kind words. ❤


  4. andy1076 says:

    You are most certainly stronger than you realize to endure so much, I’ve been there before, fists after fists and wooden sticks to metal, they eventually will pay for their sins in God’s Kingdom when judged. It’s all written in stone and will never be erased.


  5. globalunison says:

    ‘I’m too better for Heaven and I am already sick of hell — i have nowhere left to go’ — I know what you mean. Just stay strong. I know its easier said than done but it will be okay with time.



  6. webbzephyr says:

    Never fault yourself for feeling confusion or despair, especially under such difficult circumstances. Just do what you can to distance yourself from the negativity–physically, mentally, emotionally, and spiritually. Trials cannot last forever. Hollow comfort though it may be at the present time, someday you will be able to find a place of your very own where no one can hurt you without your own consent. Just hang in there and do whatever you have to in order to get out–pray, love, write, ask for help, whatever you need. And insofar as your are able, don’t let your spirit be tarnished by these experiences. ❤


    • I’m trying to do that, especially the last bit. It’s just getting increasingly difficult to keep the sourness away.. And it stays longer each time too. But I’m trying. 🙂

      Thank you for your kind words. It means a lot to me. ❤


      • webbzephyr says:

        Writing can be a great antidote to the sourness. Through your poetry, you create beauty out of ugliness. You are a wonderful writer, and if your literary voice is even half an indication of your strength as a person, I am sure you will find a way to be happy. Stay strong.

        Liked by 1 person

      • Thank you so much, Thank you so, so much. You are very kind, and I appreciate those words. Thank you. ❤


  7. Ohhhh…Oh Cookie…my tears slide down my cheeks as I read this. I cannot offer you anything that you do not already know…except possibly try talking to Mama? The Holy Spirit? I see Her as She because of how She is gendered in the original languages…and chapters 7-8-9 of Proverbs speaks of Wisdom, personified She and present from everlasting before all things…it HAS to be Holy Spirit!

    Anyway…I don’t understand God much…I drew near to Jesus as a child and young adult, and Jesus introduced me to Holy Spirit…dripping with comfort, and compassion, and transformative kindness, changing me in Her Presence with Her love.

    I don’t have anything to say about the heartless fool who was the male progenitor of your existing, except that as you know, God knows all, and there are ways in Holy Spirit by which justice and grace work together. You are likely filled with teachings about forgiveness and how it MUST be extended blah blah bla…well I wrote about that at https://charissagrace.wordpress.com/2014/10/02/to-forgive-or-not-to-forgive-that-is-the-question/

    that may or may not give you some peace and release over things.

    I will close by extending to you my love and tender mercies, and the encouragement that the best justice served the bastard is you thriving and fruitful and full of good right in his fucking face.

    Much love,

    Liked by 1 person

    • I know, Charissa dear. I imagine I’m just having some sort of episodic disillusionment with hope, and faith- both are much of the other. I do know that it won;t last long, though. I love Him too much to stay, or pretend to be ‘disillusioned’ for too long.

      I wish I could agree with you on the last bit,too, but it’s kind of pathetic. I wish I was thriving and fruitful, but I’m really much of where I was ten years ago. I’d always wondered if I’d live to see his decline. All dictators have one, at some point. But now that it seems to be coming on him, I’m past caring.

      Gah. You give me too much free rein to whine, lady. :p But I love you! 😀

      Right back atcha, megahugs!

      Cookie :3


      • Hugs mega caught!

        Here is a suggestion: are you close to fruit trees, vineyards, or veggie gardens? Hopefully yes. Go out to them…everyday. Make it part of writing prep or decompression after. And look. Pick a special tree or two and befriend it/them. Every day go say hi, and really look.

        Then be sure and write a paragraph or 2 about what you saw, what you felt from the tree, the earth and weather impact, others…

        Do this all the way til Harvest. Then email me and tell me what you learned, and I will then share my thoughts with you behind this.

        In the meantime, I am here on the west coast of America and standing with you in heart. A Gulf of distance, a Gulf of years and generation, but we two cut from similar cloth


      • Ohhh i do this, lol. I call it my open air time, when there’s nothing between my head and the sky. And *koff koff* I kinda hug a tree in my yard a lot too. Literal treehugger, etc. :p

        And you’re not far from me, doll. You’re not far from me at all. ❤ ❤

        Liked by 1 person

      • Oh I LOVE that you hug trees. I been doing that since before it was even a thing! Yaaaaaaay!

        Liked by 1 person

      • Oh and I will write more later, I am cooking rite now


  8. ohellino says:

    Hi I nominated you for the One Lovely Blog Award. The details are here http://ohellino.wordpress.com/2015/01/05/the-one-lovely-blog-award/

    Liked by 1 person

  9. Madsies says:

    My heart goes out to you Love. I wish you happiness. Stay strong. Xoxo.


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