I woke up this morning feeling like shit. Not physically, mentally. Of course! As I was taking my bath (sorry for the visual) it occured to me that maybe I shouldn’t. I just found out yesterday that I am teaching summer school. For me, that’s a HUGE deal. Sure, I’d love to have the summer off and do nothing. But that’s not at all healthy for me – mentally or financially. I heard myself actually thanking God for making it happen. I don’t thank God for much. I do fight with him an awful lot though! I cry in anger a lot in his presense. But, I generally don’t thank him for anything.
Acutally I fight with a lot of things… a lot. That’s what I do best. Fight… I fight happiness. I fight goodness. I fight healthiness – All of the positive stuff. I figure God wired me that way? Didn’t he?
I am trying to tread lightly here because I really don’t want to make this a debate. I have struggled all of my life with my faith. I purposely don’t blog about faith because I greatly respect others’ views. I listen a lot though. Lately, I’ve been feeling things open up inside… a willingness to acutally make space in my head to believe a few people’s “suggestions” or comments or…. I don’t know, observations perhaps. I have been blessed to have people like Sammy open up to me. He has a very delicate way of talking to me. I haven’t figured out yet how that has happened, but I am grateful for it.
I know what brought me here… or how it is that I am here… the sacrifice, as it was, that was made for me… I don’t wish to go there. I understand it very well. My faith is very separate from my understanding of my Christianity.
Maybe that is my problem right there… I have let my illness seep in and swallow up my faith. Mental illnesses will do that. Illnesses will do that! They swallow up what is good in us. What is confident in us…. They make us dark and angry and second guess everything that is good or right or moral.
All the medicine in the world… all the exercise, the eating right… the therapy sometimes isn’t enough. And then what?
I will tell you what happens to me…
I fall flat on my face….
….did you hear that?
It was me falling, yet again, flat. on. my. face. And, it fucking hurts. It hurts physically – the emotions hurt physically. I don’t have to tell you that because I am sure you know.
But I get up everyday and I do it again. Without fail. Without giving up and and giving in because giving in and quitting aren’t options for me. That is an entirely different conversation.
Thank you, Sammy and others, for treading lightly with me because honetly, I am a bull in a china shop here! I am angry and sad and lonely and did I mention confused?
…………….. flat on my face!