I am not much in the mood to write these days. It is not just that now life has, in a sense, started up again and I am no longer spending the whole day with nothing but thoughts bouncing around in my head. I just don’t feel like it as much.
I also feel a resurgent need for privacy, even though my blog is not really very public. About seven of you read faithfully. The rest of the world is apparently just trying to figure out how to hang themselves in their closets.
I am optimistic this morning. Something wonderful seems to have happened.
Most of me has decided that what I remember happened. It was real. I might have bits wrong here and there, but the broad strokes are real. How I felt was real. And this points a way forward. This puts solid ground under my feet that was never there before. I have always just been bumbling around, hoping something would work.
It means, suddenly, I know what the problem is. I know how to fix things. When I am triggered, I know why. I know what makes me feel better again.
At the same time, I am anxious as all hell, because of course it’s terribly frightening to feel optimistic. On the one hand, it suggests disappointment. It suggests I might, once again, be wrong about what I ought to do.
More importantly, I think God will punish me for it. Because, you know, I am an ex-two-by-two, and thinking I know is nothing other than pride. I ought to just be trying to decipher God’s will for me, and after years of hearing people talk about doing that I am still unclear how it’s done. I mean I really have no idea.
I don’t know if anyone else did either.