I’m good at avoiding. Distracting. Running. Morphing. Hiding. Disappearing.
I take on too much…spread myself too thin…and then fall apart when I get to my breaking point…or rather, when I go way past my breaking point.
I’m there. I’m at that point where I’m not happy with the way I look, with the way my life is going, with how I feel in the morning…
I’m not happy with myself.
I avoided dealing with the biggest change of my life. I avoided dealing with the feelings of the past that are still hanging over my head. I avoided dealing with the pain so that I can start to be OK.
And I didn’t stop.
I have to stop. I have to recharge. I have to get back to where I belong…find where I belong…figure out who I want to be and move forward.
In order to do that, I have to stop.
I reached out yesterday. For help.
The last thing I want is to be at that place underwater, ready to let myself drown.
I am in pieces. I have to put myself together. It’s just a matter of finding the corner piece to start the puzzle.
A rain of shadows, a storm, a squall!
Daylight retreats; night swallows all.
If good is bright, if evil is gloom,
high evil walls the world entombs.
Now comes the end, the drear, Darkfall.
Darkness devours every shining day.
Darkness demands and always has its way.
Darkness listens, watches, waits.
Darkness claims the day and celebrates.
Sometimes in silence darkness comes.
Sometimes with a gleeful banging of drums.
We can embrace love; it’s not too late.
Why do we sleep, instead, with hate?
Belief requires no suspension
to see that Hell is our invention.
We make Hell real; we stoke its fires.
And in its flames our hope expires.
Heaven, too, is merely our creation.
We can grant ourselves out own salvation.
All that’s required is imagination. – Book of Counted Sorrows, Dean Koontz