I used to believe that God did not need to take away from someone else in order to give me more. Now He has taken from me to give more to someone else.
I believe there is a God, but I have now come to believe that He doesn’t care about me — or anybody else for that matter — yet I cannot help myself and I often pray for others. I believe that is stupid, yet I still do it.
I used to believe in prayer. That the prayers of a just person were answered. I have changed that somewhat, yet I still believe that, if I pray for someone else, God will hear and do something — even though I am convinced that is a futile belief.
I used to believe that God would always take care of me — but I have now lost my position at work, my salary will go down, and I will
find myself scrimping along again. My quality of life will go down and I believe that I will never recover from this loss.
Love/Marriage
I believe my mother has always hated me, that the only reason she now likes me or says she loves me is because my brother hurt her and scared her into becoming sober, and she will not forgive him. I believe I have no worth in her eyes, except that now she has temporarily transferred all the love she had for my brother to me. If ever he came back into her life, she would find a reason to fight with me and no longer be on speaking terms.
I believe I am weak — that I have failed in both my marriages because of that.
I believe I failed in my first marriage because I was unfaithful, in spite of the fact that my husband had had a girlfriend for over a year by then.
I believe I failed my second husband miserably because I did not manage to get him off his alcoholism. I believe he counted on me to help him, but I couldn’t do it.
I believe we lost the house in 1983 (the interest on the mortgage went up to 18%) because I believed I did not deserve a house and all the beautiful things that come with it. I felt like a whore who had been taken in from the cold, out of pity, by someone really nice. When I met Jos., I had no sense of self-worth whatsoever. The little self-esteem I’d had when I married Donald was all gone by then.
I believe I am incapable of truly loving. Two marriages are the proof of that. The fact that I have no companion is also proof of my inability to love. I do love my son — but I think I go about it the wrong way all the time.