The Banzai Chronicles

Body isn't much liking the way it's being treated, I'm thinking. Rolled into work this morning after a couple hours' sleep, then collapsed onto my bed for another couple between lock-up this afternoon and returning for the Gathering of Prayer this evening. Total hours of sleep do not exceed total number of fingers on one hand; stomach has flipped from hungry to nauseous a couple times. I'm not trying to mistreat my body—hope it understands.

When the pendulum swung to "hungry," went for a nighttime grocery run. Sometimes those can be hard on me emotionally, for reasons I don't fully understand, but tonight's wasn't so bad. The believer in me says that I was being shown grace, the optimist that I'm doing better, the pessimist that I've so lowered the daily emotional baseline that a grocery store experience isn't even in the ballpark of difficult. Each argument is well-supported in its own right.

Wondering if it would be helpful for me to establish projects for myself, schedules and plans and timelines and tasks, all for a sense of direction, progress, and control. Or maybe just a strategy to keep the darkness at bay, in its place so that my brooding would have boundaries instead of washing over my every moment and thought.

The above paints a bleaker picture than is accurate. Author's liberty, I suppose. I know a few things, deep down, that make it easier. I know I am understood in ways that cannot be expressed, that my fear is only fear. The silence has a voice, if only I will listen. For now, that voice is enough. I hear, I know, I understand.

Read in Hosea a bit this evening. God speaks so deeply there: to His faithfulness, to my unfaithfulness, and to the cost of being faithful.