A Bushel and a Peck

It's a grief day.  Or maybe a depression day. Or an "everything is just harder" kind of day.  When I get like this, the loneliness weighs me down It feels like the air is being pushed out of my lungs  A little at a time.  It's so easy to tell myself I'm tired So easy to lie down and sleep And tell myself that'll make me feel better.  It's so easy to feel defeated and overwhelmed,  Like a child lost in the woods,  Afraid of everything around her.  I know God is my safe place.  I know He loves me and I can trust Him.   But it's so easy to feel like that's not enough.  At least on grief days,  Depression days, It's so easy to get lost again. 

It's interesting how certain events can shove me back into superficial mode, codependent mode, "forget everything I've been learning and turn back into a teenager" mode. It can be fun, but it's mostly frustrating. I don't want to lose myself again. I don't want to get so wrapped up in any other human being that I forget myself and God. I don't want to turn into a completely different person to try to "fit" someone else. I've been working really hard at uncovering the real me and I love that beautiful soul. I can tell it's going to take a lot of work to keep her uncovered as I continue to open up to others. It's going to require that I overcome fear of rejection, fear of humiliation, fear of loneliness - all of which I've overcome on a general level, but now I'm working on overcoming those things on the next level down. I have to identify the places where I'm weak, insecure, uncertain in relationships that are more ...

I sit, perched on the back steps, staring up at the blackness of the night sky, the misty clouds that drift between my body and the stars, the deepness of space, the potential of the universe. I'm overwhelmed, contemplating the endlessness I can see from my tiny piece of earth. I gaze at the twinkling pinpricks of light, traveling to me from lightyears away, considering how huge the universe really is, how insignificant my body, heart, mind, and soul are in comparison. I glance at the few stars I can see from my perch and compare them to experiences I've had, experiences I've yet to have. How many pinpricks of pain, heartbreak, confusion, fear will I experience in my lifetime? More or less than the stars I see before me now? How many pinpricks of pain will I need to experience before I can form a beautiful but imperfect constellation? How many heartbreaks before I find my joy, my rest? I consider the pain that so many before me have experienced and realize that my t...