Life Can Be A Cunty-Bitch Sometimes!

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I will never understand this life. The more I try to make sense of it, the more I fall into utter confusion. Lost to my own misconceptions of wrong is wrong and right should be rewarded and do unto others.

Blah, blah, blah, life seems to say back to me with an eye roll and a brush-off, wondering why I still don’t get it.

I feel stupid for not understanding.

How can I not understand that sometimes the good guy ends up coming last, and the winner is sometimes so awful and the worst human imagined; sometimes the talented are simple that- talented- they are neither seen nor acknowledged, and the talentless is revered. Sometimes the good man ends up with the wrong woman and the good woman ends up with the wrong man. Sometimes the good die young, and the evil live on, reigning fire and brimstone past the age of the seventy years that is allotted to men as per the bible.

On and on, my mind tries to add up what seems to be mathematically impossible to answer. Why plus God plus the universe, subtract what the hell, equals this life is a cunty-bitch that reigns terror on whoever it feels like whenever it feels like, and no one is exempt.

That’s pretty much the answer that I get sometimes, when I try to add it up.

The other day I read an article about a celebrity (who now has multiple children) saying that she can’t remember how many abortions she had because there were so many. And I have to say, I was angry and completely taken aback by this.

Stop.

Before you get a head of yourself, read on…

Here was another instance where God was showing me, I understand nothing about this life. I wasn’t angry at this lady (who has nothing to do with me and who I have no clue how to walk a day in her life. And I'm not saying that because she had abortions, she should be denied children, either- so pump your breaks.)

I was angry at God. This young lady who had the abortions clearly had no trouble getting pregnant. By the way she talked about it, I would have to say it was effortless. Yet I knew personally, and not so personally, so many women who were, and even now are, praying fervently to God for a child. Who have cried to God, wept, and been so heartbroken that they lost their faith.

They’ve tried IVF and every other method known to man; they have fasted and prayed, and still God says no. I was so angry; I myself wept. Because although I have never felt personally what these women felt, my heart as a fellow human understood their pain so deeply, it crushed me to see how it didn’t matter, how good you were, how much you prayed or fasted, how much you had a husband and could provide for a child... the cunty-bitch called life did not care.

Listen, to the crusaders of abortion, I’m not here to crucify this celebrity or any other woman who has had abortions- not now and not ever. It’s just not my place because I am human- it’s as simple as that. We’re all on equal footing in the balance of the cunty-bitch (called life). So, this is not about judgment against abortion; this is about God and how he rips you to shreds and leaves you bleeding out on the floor, watching the life and breath flutter from you in painstaking slowness, and still He won’t change his mind.

Now for those of you who don’t believe in God, I’m always curious as to how you get through things like this because somebody has to get blamed for this clear mismanagement of Earthly dealings. And no judgment on the God-disbelief thing either, because the world needs the atheist. As for me, I know I like talking to them because they give me insights into myself and life that I never would have had because I’m too darn hooked on God.

But I digress… I was angry at how we’re taught about consequences and karma and good deeds, and yet the lady with her husband, crying for a baby, gets denied, but the fifteen-year-old and the lady on drugs, fallopian tubes and eggs are working so freaking perfectly; they knocked it out of the park on the first go- easy.

What the freaking hell is this life! I’m so sick of things not making sense. I’m so tired of Christians telling me that it’s not God because his work is finished and it’s our decisions that cause these things to happen in the world. I cry bull-crap, and I cry it loudly! I have seen God intervene so many times to save, to prevent, to protect, and no one had to weep their soul out for him to step in. Don’t give me bull-crap platitudes when you know as well as I do that this freaking life makes no sense! This cunty bitch is playing in my face, and I hate it and hate that God lets her get away with it.

I wish I had a great way of ending this emotional rant- wish I had some great solution for us, mere mortals, to use against the cunty-bitch, but sadly, I’m always at odds with myself because on good days, I love this cunty-bitch called life.

On days when my family is safe and I’m happy, and my money is flowing, the cunty bitch becomes a wonderful experience of joy and peace and goodwill to all men. And if I’m honest, my good days always outweigh my bad days. If I’m honest, no matter how bad it gets, God seems ever present, ever delighted in my journey here, as if his only requirement of me is for me to love and hate this wonderful cunty-bitch of a life. As if he too finds my inappropriate jokes funny and is laughing right along with me.

If I am honest, I would have to admit that no matter how much I struggle with trying to figure this life out, I stand in awe of it and the God who created it. As I write this, I remember the line from that movie with the two gay cowboys, where one cowboy says, with such emotion you felt it through the screen: “I wish I could quit you”. I'm laughing out loud because I can hear his country twang accent in my head, and it was some great acting, but also because that’s how I sometimes feel about God and about this life. I wish I could just stop loving God, be angry at him forever, join the atheists. Live without regard for something bigger than myself. But then I feel the sun against my skin, feel the rush of the wind, or stand at my door and watch the storm pass through as the rain kisses my skin and I am reborn into the truth of who I am and why I love God and this cunty-bitch called life.

The cunty-bitch is sometimes unfair and painful to a fault, but oh my God, is it beautiful and glorious in its unfolding. And on the occasions when I see and feel the hand of God in my life and in other people’s lives, as he doles out miracles and God winks, I am reminded that God is never going to quit us, and we can rest assured in that truth no matter how much life is a cunty-bitch (sometimes).

RJ Mquintosh