So, I briefly had a post up which linked to an offensive facebook page where a young woman is posting really distasteful, ignorant, hateful, ludicrous, and overall uneducated angry posts about every religion imaginable. I won’t mention the specific name of the page, because the harm it might cause is not really worth the whole viewing it/reporting it thing.
At first my reaction was just anger. Basically, mirroring what she was spewing in all her posts. Why be so rude? Why be so boastful of your so-called “knowledge” when you obviously have not looked into any of the religions you’re speaking out against, at least not beyond a simple google-search?
Then it turned to pity. Like…wow. This is someone’s life, their existence. They live this life everyday, so hopeless, sad, angry. That got me quite depressed.
Now if there’s anything I’ve learned from working behind a telephone, it’s that people constantly misdirect their anger. Sometimes anger bubbles up and starts to choke you, so impulsively you have to release some of it upon the first hint of an anger-vessel so in order to just survive. Anger is such a nasty, toxic thing.
I’ve also learnt that anger can be contagious, if you allow it to be. It feeds on itself.
Even on this girl’s public page, there was a hint of something that occurred in her past, which no doubt would cause anyone to be angry. REALLY angry. And she’s just found the world-religions to be her anger-vessel. Somewhere to blame. Something to tear down. And you know what? That’s okay. There’s nothing wrong with anger, especially ignorant anger. I think it’s natural.
For the greater part of my life, I was really angry. I was angry that my parents had such horrible afflictions. I was angry that I felt responsible for their afflictions and their subsequent bad behaviour. I was angry that no one was there for me. I was angry that the only way I somehow felt an escape was through drug use and men. The funny thing is, I can honestly say, I never really got angry at God. My anger was never directed there, it was just this cesspool of anger I swam in in my day-to-day life that spoilt everything and towed me down under a depression. I can remember begging God to just kill me, please, because it was too much, and it would be such a great favour if he could just stop it all, now. Please.
And it seems like slowly, but suddenly, I just found myself here, in a place where I’m kind of ok. I honestly did not foresee myself living long past 18 or 19, but I’m here, years later surviving. I’m not going to be like “oh God works miracles and is amazing and God’s the reason I’m here!! happyface happyface” but in a more sober sense, I truly believe that’s true. From being in such a low, low, place, to being here, is really a miracle. Not everything is butterflies and rainbows but I’m fine, better than fine. What more could I ask for?
I think part of it’s age, maturing, having hatred burn out. But I think the greater part, is allowing myself to believe, to allowing myself to acknowledge that I do require a spiritual nutrition as well. One of the things that I find most striking in Islam myself, is that God has 99 names. Yes he is the beneficent, the merciful, the protector but he is also the humiliator, the delayer, the afflicter. Not everything is even meant to be butterflies and rainbows. When I “got” that, things got better.
So the long and the short of it is, when I push myself to think longer and harder about these instances where I get so upset over other’s flamboyant ignorance and projectile-anger, I gain some hope. If I got here, anyone can get here. We’re all human. InshaAllah, the world will surprise her, in the best of ways