Shard of Hope

I woke up this morning with that familiar fist of dread settled directly in the middle of my stomach. It continued to grow, stretching its heavy tentacles up into my chest until I couldn't breathe.  I'm used to this...I don't like it, but I expect it.  Only, I was hoping this morning might be different.  I've trying so hard to change things....sure, some of that trying is only going on in my head but that's gotta count for something doesn't it.  I mean I'm actually thinking for once instead of just trying endure my lot in life. 

I guess that's why I didn't just feel disappointment....I felt downright anger when I woke up with the same knot in my stomach.  I won't lie.  I sat around and felt sorry for myself a few hours.  Why was God doing this to me?  Couldn't he see I was trying?  And then it occurred to me, what exactly had I been trying to do differently than my normal self-involved coping mechanisms (namely cruising celebrity gossip blogs and wondering why  Mike Rowe won't return my calls)?  Nothing..absolutely nothing.  I keep sitting around waiting...for something.  Exactly what I can't really say and so far that hasn't really been working out so much.

And then, out of the blue, I thought what if tried something small...nothing earth shattering, just some tiny effort on  my part to give something of myself instead of simply waiting for something to come to me.  So, I did....I took the initiative to message a friend and say good morning....how's it going.  And I listened to what she had to say.  Who'd of thought something so minimal could make me feel good?  But it did.  Not a lot but enough that the dread loosened it's grasp ever so slightly around my heart.   Then, I tried it again....I called a friend who has been ill just to see how they were doing and if they needed anything.  After I got off the phone, I felt like I could breathe again without it being such an effort.  My insides relaxed a little more. 

I won't say the fear completely left me.  I still had my episodes of doubt and fear...but there were these glorious moments of Hope in between that I hadn't felt in very long time.  And that's what I needed more than anything....just a shard of Hope to put in my pocket and maybe hold close to my heart once in a while.

Prayer Reflex

I prayed this morning.  It was spontaneous, without thought, and completely fear induced.  I use that word a lot:  fear.  Sometimes, I think I should have it tattooed across my forehead...right next to the "Mike Rowe Is My Husband, He Just Doesn't Know It Yet" tattoo below my right eye.  Fear seems to guide everything I do.  I wake up with it and go to bed with it.  It leaves a bitter taste in my mouth when I'm not really thinking about it...a reminder, I guess, just in case I thought for a few seconds I could be normal. What does all that have to do with the praying?  Not only did I wake up with the taste of fear on my tongue..it was a full course meal complete with soup, salad, and those little tomatoes no one ever eats.  So, I prayed.  It was reflex and just a little sad.  Why do I only pray when I'm scared?  I often wonder what God thinks about it.  "There she goes again".  How can I expect him to be there for me when I'm not there for him?  I know..I know.  He's God.  He loves us no matter what but that doesn't mean we shouldn't expect more from ourselves. 

So, I sit here with the same knot in my stomach I've had for days now wondering what I'm supposed to do.  It's so easy to pledge to change....to "earn" God's mercy and help.  The actual doing...not so much.  I don't want my life to be a mere series of panicked episodes and sporadic redemptions.  I want it to be a path, crooked though it may be, of me at least try to go somewhere.   But right now, I've lost my map, I'm out of water, and there's an annoying blister on my toe. 

Crossroads

I was going to write this last night but honestly needed a few hours to stew about it and bemoan my life.  Oh, I  didn't learn anything from it..of course not. That'd make too much sense wouldn't it?  Maybe I should start from the beginning or I guess middle, as I've already established previously I have no clue where the beginning is. 

My road to fear-induced self-discovery began last week when I came to a crossroads in my job.  The company I work for is great...my supervisor is great....the work itself is, well, not great because work seldom is, but I was good at it.  I had all that going for me, and I was still miserable.  Why?  If I knew that, I'd be dancing around the yard like a crazy person smelling the butterflies and chasing the flowers.  So, I made the decision to quit my job.  And I never do that...never do what is not responsible, not reliable, not for the most part logical.  Now that I think about it, perhaps I'm half Vulcan.  Hmmm.  Regardless, after a lot of ugly crying and nonsensical rambling, I did it...I gave my notice.  It scared the hell out of me but continuing on as I had been scared me even more.  So I did it.  In the movies, this is the part usually where you see the hero/heroine striding purposefully toward the horizon having faced life's hurdles and won as Aerosmith plays in the background.  I sat on the couch and cried.....with the Spongebob Squarepants theme song helping me along.  It wasn't pretty. 

Cut to a few days later.  I haven't cried as much.  I only want to throw up all that time, but I guess that's an improvement.  And then I get THE E-MAIL.  My job wanted me to work a few more weeks past my quit date.  And I said yes.  So much for self-discovery.  Not that working for a few more weeks is such a bad thing.  But then why do I feel the velvet talons of safety pulling me back in? I'm not brave...never have been.  I don't know if I can do this.