And my heart is heavy.
I feel like hiding under the blankets and closing my eyes (and the ears to my mind). My senses are tired and overstimulated. My brain needs to rest.
I read a book that was supposed to encourage me — a story from the Bible that was supposed to lift my spirits.
It made things worse. It made me look at my situation and realize that it is not temporary but permanent. Will I ever join the workforce again? Am I supposed to be on disability until I reach retirement age? Will depression, agoraphobia and anxiety diminish their grip enough for me to function as an average person my age?
Is this a season? A winter? Or is it my life forever?
If it is permanent, oh God, send my way a terminal illness that grants me a dignified end. If it is not, will you show me a sign? A God moment? A teaser of a better life to come?
Forgive me, Lord.
I should focus on the positive: my supportive wife, daughters that adore me, and family and friends that love me.
I know, I know.