Angry Conversations With God

Las Vegas, NV: Though I normally only read when I'm inspired by book club (and by inspired, I mean forced for my own good), I was recommended a book by a friend who works at a book publishing company. Since I have some crazy thought in my mind that one day I may write a book myself (think the journey to spirituality (with much more stumblings than I'd like to admit) meets "Sex and the City" (without nearly as much sex) while traveling around the world (with a bunch of musicians)), I'm trying to get some inspiration from other memoirs that deal with at least one of the three components to my barely balanced life.

Angry Conversations With God by Susan E. Isaacs is a "snarky but authentic spiritual memoir" (says the cover of the book) that tells the tale of a girl who is heartbroken when a relationship ends and starts to question her belief in -- or rather, her trust in -- God. Or as Susan describes it, "when your pain doesn't go away - when it feels like your intestines are being ripped out and God has abandoned you or worse: he's there but he doesn't care."

Weird - I don't know that feeling personally at all. Which is why it was so strange that I had to blink a couple of times after re-reading that line to stop my eyes from misting.

The idea is that Susan decides that because she was having issues with God, she was going to treat it like a real relationship.... and take him to couples counseling. She would speak on behalf of herself, and her vision of what both Jesus & God would say and the counselor would mediate these "conversations." (Poor slightly confused but open minded counselor....) What I love the most (so far, being that I'm only up to page 45) is God's sarcasm. For example:

Counselor: Lord, are you willing to show up for every counseling session?
God: Yeah, whatever.
Counselor: You don't seem too enthusiastic.
God: I've got a universe to manage. Now I have to shrink my ineffability into some rumpus room so Susan can rag on me. (To Susan) You're right. This isn't Darfur. Get over yourself.

Now that this technique has been taken, I figure since I won't be able to write my autobiography in the same fashion, I could at least try it out myself. Being in Las Vegas for an annual work trip, it's inevitable that I will run into some ghosts of Christmas pasts. And in certain circumstances, it's almost unavoidable that certain someones will push that button that they unfortunately still know the location of. So when the alarm clock went off this morning, and I found myself hung over and pissed recalling the previous evening's verbal strike. I decided I needed to have a talk with God about it.

Since I was also feeling a little needy (it has been two weeks since I've seen the boy), I decided I also needed God to spoon me. I know it sounds a little creepy, but with a pillow at my back and one in front, I closed my eyes again and began my own angry conversation with God (knowing you can't really be angry at anyone if you're being spooned).

Me: So what gives? Why do I STILL run into people who intentionally make me feel bad?
God: Why do you let what people say affect you so much?
Me: I don't know... maybe I'm worried about choices I've made in my life. Maybe I should have done something else? Taken a different path? Maybe I made a mistake?
God: Are you happy where you are now?
Me: Of course I am! I have a great job, awesome boyfriend, a home, friends... and hell, God's spooning me. I mean, duh. (oh, and sorry if saying 'hell' offends you)
God: Then maybe you can start seeing that you are exactly where you need to be right now? (and no offense taken)
Me: Maybe. But why does it still hurt sometimes?
God: Does it hurt a little less than last time?
Me: Yeah, a little, I guess.
God: See, so time does heal.
Me: I hate when you say that. And can you please get rid of this hangover?
God: Maybe you could have thought about that when you were drinking all that beer last night?
Me: Please no lectures right now. I need to go back to sleep. Thanks for the spoon.
God: Anytime.

Ok, so it's probably better that Susan wrote a whole book this way, but I did truly enjoy having a little one-on-one with the big G in the morning. And it was a good reminder that a little less pain is STILL progress. Time - as much as it f*ing sucks - does heal. For hangovers, however, I recommend a glass of water, three Aleve and a note to self next time you're having a few too many beers.