Feeling kind of vulnerable today. Not sure why. Nothing happened other than more bills, less money. But that’s nothing new and like most days I wrestled with the desire to stick my head in the sand and wish it would just go away.
I want to blog more tonight, but I’m tired. I should be in bed. But I’m not. I should have gotten more done today, but I didn’t. I probably could use a good cry, but I won’t. Maybe I even need a good fight, but I shouldn’t.
Isn’t that weird? Restless…pacing inside. Feeling unsafe and not able to do much beyond locking the doors and closing the windows. But it’s not even that kind of unsafe…it’s just that unsafe, like you’ve gotten yourself up to high or out too far and there’s no getting back without risk. Your throat and the pit of your stomach have met somewhere in between. It’s not anybody else’s doing or anybody’s particular fault, but rather the realization that this is where you find yourself.
I don’t mean this to be fussy. It’s just one of those odd statements of fact. I will drag myself in to say my prayers and I will try to drag myself out of bed for a run. I will feed the dog. I will go to work and I will cross my fingers, say more prayers and hope that the routine brings some sense of stability, that in getting the necessary accomplished, I can find some quiet. At least, for now, the illusion of safety.
Just again to reiterate, for my mom, who reads this…nothing is wrong. Just one of those days.