I try to make myself feel guilty for missing two days of daily work. But I don’t. What overtook them was so much more precious.
Day one of no caffeine. Not too bad so far. (Timestamp: 7:35am.)
In the wake of revelation, the question. What is the next smallest step forward?
An unwelcome stormcloud in the house.
It’s the kind of conversation neither of us wants to have about a problem we both know needs solving. Neither of us has a solution that feels right although we both know the easy way out.
My insides tie themselves in knots, burning up my energy into weak nothing. The timing is suspicious. I crawl into bed wondering if the attack is a coincidence or a red flag for something more emotional than physical.
Two hours, four messages. Instant guilt for being sick.
Everything gets so much easier when you can identify what you do want instead of only what you don’t want.
This feels like giving up.
“You’re being shitty because it’s not Christmas yet.” This is how the Holy Spirit talks to me.