"Others Are My Hell"

Preface of "Others Are My Hell"

I found the « Grill a Christian » forum, in April. As a newbie writer, I answered the April prompt, for practice and feedback.

The judge — LightinMind — said in his review:

“You completely missed the point about what it means to talk to God. What you said was, in effect, blasphemous and idolatrous. You proposed a pseudo-scientific view of prayer over the adoration of the Divine. You redefined prayer in terms of what it can do for you, missing the possibility of an actual conversation with the Other Person God Almighty.”

I explained that I often wrestle with God and His creation — like Jacob wrestled the angel, not to mock. For me, that’s one of the ways I speak to the Divine: honestly and vulnerably.
He responded:

“To bring our thoughts, however wrong or misguided, into our conversation with God is something He wants. The very act of moaning out our misconceptions helps clean them up. The obvious book to read is Job. It is almost my life’s motto: Though he slay me, yet will I trust in Him. It’s all about trust.”

When May's prompt was released, I wanted to experiment with poetry. It was my first serious attempt, and I realize the result might come across as everything but what I intended: dense, hermetic, veering into ‘teen angst’ and — God forbid — blasphemous. I chose not to post it directly in the forum, but still, I kept it in my portfolio for those curious about the actual thought process and original intent. Suggestions are welcome.
The prompt asked:

"What is your problem? Sin, pain, poverty, or false perspective?
Is your problem that you messed up and broke God’s rules – again! Is it because someone/something hurt you and you have yet to recover from your wounds? Is it that you just do not have the resources to make things right for yourself and others? Is it because you just don’t have the right perspective yet on what has happened? The solution fits the problem. Are we looking for forgiveness, healing, riches or enlightenment?"

I circled each problem but none of them brought a sense of freedom.
I remembered LightinMind’s words: « It is all about trust. »
That word — trust — feels like a slur to those of us who survived by not trusting. Who anticipated punishment and performed for survival. That word was triggering and I realized my problem wasn’t sin or suffering. It was existential. My problem was trust.

My poem is titled “Others Are My Hell” because it is a nod to Sartre’s line: “Hell is other people”
He meant that the gaze of Others becomes a prison. Their judgment shapes us. In my case, it even shaped how I saw God.

“The child is the father of the man.”
— William Wordsworth

The child I was depended on Others — Family. Preachers. Teachers. Society — and that’s where the distortion began. I grew up in a dysfunctional home. Others made a bargaining chip of me. I learned to perform for love. I was told God likes children who self-sacrifice. I tried to please God, but I didn't know I wasn’t meeting His expectations — only theirs. Theologically, God is love. Existentially, I was shaped by merciless people who claimed to speak for Him. Their voices became internalized, their gaze became my mirror. Their voices painted a cold, hard, deity. That was the only God I knew. When Others spoke of God, they gave me fear, not mercy. He demands perfection, never welcomed me, gave me silent treatment, humiliates. He doesn’t forgive but tolerates and resents. He doesn't provide — just withholds to test you.

There’s a hadith in Islam that says :
“I am as My servant thinks I am.” — Hadith Qudsi

And the child I was thought God was as Others.
If I believe God is cruel like those who hurt me, I’ll feel abandoned — even when He’s near.
If I believe He is merciful, I’ll search for Him — even in darkness.
It’s not that I haven’t been forgiven.
It’s that I can’t feel forgiven. God isn’t silent — but Others still speak louder.

When I try to pray, I still hear their voices:

“Now you want God’s help? Too late.”
“You have a breakdown? Jesus was crucified. Get over it.”
“God doesn’t love people like you.”
“Your prayers are selfish. Blasphemous.”
“You're a hypocrite. A heretic. Damned.”

And now, I don’t trust that I’m forgivable. I don’t trust that I’m lovable. I don’t trust that God is different from them.
My problem isn’t sin. It’s what Others turned sin into: not a flaw needing grace, but a permanent identity.
My problem isn’t pain — it’s the voice that said, “You deserved it.”
It’s not poverty — it’s the shame: “God loves those He blesses.”
It’s not perspective — it’s the fact that Others built my image of God before I ever knew Him for myself.
Even if God sets me free — I stay in the cell. A man-made Hell.

Scripture says :

“The Lord is compassionate and gracious…” — Psalm 103:8
“Indeed, Allah forgives all sins…” — Qur’an 39:53

And I want to believe that but I don’t know how to receive it. Because the god I was taught to fear wore the mask of those who hurt me.
I learned to survive the spiritual life as a performance, not a relationship.

In result, I became an Other to myself.
That’s why I referenced Charles Baudelaire’s poem « Héautontimorouménos » — or the Self-Tormentor.

But God designed us, He knows about our very human struggle. God sees how we turn against ourselves. He knows how our mind are hijacked by the voices that contradict Him. So He commands reminders of who He is.

“Remind — for the reminder benefits the believers.” — Qur’an 51:55
“While we were still sinners, Christ died for us.” — Romans 5:8
“We created man and know what his soul whispers to him…” — Qur’an 50:16
“The Lord is close to the brokenhearted…” — Psalm 34:18
“Do not let your own hands throw you into destruction.” — Qur’an

Pain often speaks before doctrine — and God listens. Especially when theology is messy.
Job understood:

“Teach me, and I will be silent; make me understand how I have gone astray.” — Job 6:24

Peter denied Jesus — and was restored: “Lord, you know I love you” — John 21:17
Paul persecuted believers — “But I received mercy…” — 1 Tim 1:16
The thief on the cross had no good deeds — “Today you will be with me” — Luke 23:43

In Islam, even Satan made a request — and God answered:

“My Lord, reprieve me until the Day they are resurrected.’
[Allah] said, ‘You are of those reprieved.’”

If God listens even then — why do I still doubt He would listen to me?
Because Trust is my affliction.
It’s terrifying to those who survived by being wary. Kierkegaard called faith “a leap.”

But Scripture is clear: mercy is God’s default, not His exception.

“In the name of God, the Most Gracious, the Most Merciful…”
— Repeated at the start of every chapter in the Qur’an (except one)

“Without faith it is impossible to please God… anyone who comes to Him must believe that He exists and that He rewards those who seek Him.” — Hebrews 11:6

I learned to chase love and perform for survival — not receive it. Even now, my faith stammers, not because I don’t want God, but because I don’t know how to stop auditioning for Him. My faith isn’t fake — it’s exhausted. Because it’s still chasing. Still performing. Still hoping that maybe this time, I’ll be enough — because that’s all I ever knew with Others.

To seek God when you feel unworthy is the most radical form of trust. It does not start with pretending — it starts with confession.
With bringing your real self, wounds and all, before Him — bruised, doubting.

I already did the asking:

“God… is this You — or still Others talking?”
“Give me You, God — not the version Others made.
Not the idol of punishment and shame.
Not the ghost in the pulpit.
Just You. Let me trust You again.”

Now, it's time to take the leap — to trust that God is not Others.
That He forgives, heals, provides, and enlightens — even me.