I awoke this morning and already the grip of anxiety was strong in my mind. These are the days I struggle more than most. I broke down in the shower, my tears washing down the drain with the water. I cried because I wonder if I will actually make it to the end of this. I am not sure what all "this" is, but it feels like a road, a journey perhaps, which would mean it has an end. At the finish line is freedom from feeling this way. Maybe I am lost. I have no map. All I have is a compass and I follow it, but without any idea of where I am going I seem to end up neck deep in bogs too often.
Or maybe it is not a journey at all. Maybe it is simply what it is. As zen as that sounds, I am not sure what it means. If there is no end to this wandering, what is the point?
I keep reading in some vain attempt at finding a point or an answer or some glimmer of hope. That is not really what I need to be doing. For all of our struggles, the answer is inside. This is also where the struggles lie. We create our own problems and obstacles and make them real by believing in them. All of this, then, blocks the view of the answer. Muddying our own water is much easier than allowing it to clear. Today, the water is thick with fear and anxiety. I am really struggling, but I feel something new.
There is a part of me that is trying to let go of whatever this is. But that part is small. A child in a world of grumpy and depressed grown ups.
I don't know where I am going with this. I suppose it was an attempt to see things clearly, to get some of the poison out of my head. Moments like these are the ones where I will find the largest growth. I have to believe that.
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