Sometimes I feel the urge to write something serious, not because I feel serious or am depressed about anything, it’s simply a desire to purge myself of something. A lot of the time I work through things while writing. Other times I feel I need to write something serious simply because of I’m comparing myself. When I read other blogs, I feel like I am slightly more insane and childish with a pouted lip and all. It’s a convoluted thing. Onwards.
I am dreading moving in with my parents, I won’t go into details, but specifically speaking right now what I’m dreading is the simple change in living arrangements, going from a house to a basement. That has spiders… I don’t know how Summit will do, I wonder how he will sleep, I wonder if the large closet we were going to paint and make nice for him is big enough or if I’m being stupid for even thinking it will work out… I wonder where our clothes will go, how my cats will do with the change… The list goes on. My head is full, my mind exhausted.
I think thats sometimes where the real beauty is, in the simplicity of exhaustion. The chaos, the loudness, the ringing in my ears and my shaking hands from consuming too much caffeine. You just can’t anymore. Can’t do anything, think anything, be anyone else except yourself. It’s an ugly thing, however, seeing yourself in the mirror for who you are and not your projection of yourself- which wants perfection and tolerates nothing less. My God, he has caught me.
The brain is on overload, I’m unable to relax at nights, but he IS there. I am an errant child running away, but God, in true parent form, ambles along after me, always keeping me in his sight although I think I have won my freedom. Why is it so easy to forgive others for their failures? My boxes judge me from the living room, silently chastising me with their emptiness. I give others the grace I so rarely extend to myself. The deep self-deprecation begins when I’m at the end, I should be able to do more.
and I think that is where God is, in the realness of myself, in the stillness of the house while Sum naps, in the ‘I can’t’, he is. and I’m thankful that I can’t. Because God is there to be, finally, when I’m done trying.
(video is cheeseball, the song rocks my face off)