When you get to breathing easy and laughing again, life throws you another one...
It's been a difficult, strange year, and I can't help but think the me before all that's happened would've been more chipper and resilient, but at this point I'm just so tired. Tired of feeling second string, - or like having feelings is some horrendous burden to bear. I'd say "I'm sorry" for being a feeler, but I'm not and I don't know how to be any other way.
And I feel so far away from everyone. Another cyclical, seasonal thing I go through - in tandem, usually, with my spiritual deserts - whose repetition I can never seem to figure out. I find myself in that place with little hope that I'll ever stop having these seasons, knowing in part this round is due to re-entry to the single life. I don't have much hope for it to feel different, the only hope I do have is that God will grow something in me through it. That maybe somehow in being parched for the very thing I crave and need most, I will find that quenched in Him, even though it doesn't feel like it right now.
I naively felt as though I already knew my low seasons in life many years ago. I don't say naively because they weren't low, but because I believed probably out of self-preservation that more would not come; I'd hit the quota. Somehow in that I felt brave, to endure and be strong. However, this year has broken many of my constructs about what I can endure, and what I want, and even what I already have. It has near evaporated the hope that once brewed quietly, a slow-rolling boil.
So as I have finally picked myself up and dusted myself off, I am tired, and faint, and lonely, with only the hope that my Refuge will come to me, lift me from my weariness, and set things right. Even though the hope is weary.
