Broken Lights on the Freeway

This could be the way I am for the rest of my life.

I want to be that strong person again. It's all selfish; I want to be admired, praised, commended. Instead He is leaving me in a place of absolute humility. I am down on the floor and cannot feel Him at all.

I don't want to have to be strong anymore. Not really. It's so much effort to keep my head up, hold the tears back and hide the words screaming to be let out.

So then it comes down to fear. Today I could not stay in my class for the last hour because I could not hold back the tears. I was a mess. Without strength there is fear. So am I more afraid of becoming a dazzling statue again - the kind that is rock solid marble, cold and hard and without life; the immovable dead - or of what people might say and do if I just start crying in the middle of Senior Seminar?

It's confession time. Every day, the pull that is Overwhelm staggers closer and closer until I can feel him beneath my feet, in my lungs, over my head. He comes on painfully slow, but I cannot bring myself to move. If I let myself get caught up completely, I am finished; there will not be a person in this body to resurrect again.

I am doing everything I can. I sleep more. I eat more. I read my Bible more. I talk less and listen more. I don't get bogged down by stress. I have hope in the things that are sure. ...And guess what? I am still not okay.

This could be the way I am for the rest of my life.