held to the past, too aware of the pending

when i was in college i took a nap every single day. every one. it was a beautiful, peaceful, restful time, the naptime. i would crawl right in and pick up where i left off, and sleep until some evening hour where i would get up, take a shower, and go downstairs to watch tv with the cockroaches. every day. but in those days my mind was filled with inner turmoil! sadness! one could even say, despair! confusion and torturous anger!

i mean, not all the time. i wasn't that crazy. but still!

now it's all reversed. now i wake up and that's that. i look at the internet for ten minutes, i take a shower, i get dressed, and that's that. if i actually do take a nap, it's because i'm either 1) sick 2) very stressed or 3) exhausted. today it happens to be number two, so i went and took a nap just now and i woke up feeling awful. in the old days, these naps were always so nice. the waking was nice, with a pleasant yawn and a scratching of the head, and then trodding off to the kitchen to have a nice cool drink and a high-five hundred to the centipede living in the brita. these days, i wake up from naps and i have malaria, all hot and sweaty and cloudy eye-rubbing.

and as for the old brain, it's much calmer. less constant panic, depression, end-of-the-world-ness. a significant drop in rousing renditions of the It's Never Going to Be Okay (Again, or Ever) song. a little more faith in myself, through God (but, maddeningly frustrating: a little less awareness of God's presence). more effective (and kinder! so much kinder!) talking-to's and talking-down's and talking-through's with myself when anxiety strikes because of the littlest reasons or the biggest ones (though i don't always land the ending on those every time). and if nobody's there to listen just then, that's okay. and the broader feeling of happiness and willingness to take time for myself and control--here's the thing--control my time with others and still feel loved and okay rather than terribly guilty, and awful, and panicked, like i'm missing something or the faint strains of the 2003 smash hit Now You've Really Done It (You're So Selfish, Why?) start to be faintly heard. and a million other things.

so that? is why i really loved my time with the devastator. God-given. it's a neat little gift too, He gave me, because i genuinely care about her and enjoyed my time with her and respect her, and that's of course the biggest reason i was able to work with her so well and come so incredibly and miraculously far. i am humbled by this gift and can't believe i got it. and naturally, what makes it so sad for the time to end. it's one of the first really big losses i've had that i've truly felt through so far, and right away, rather than pushing it down or realizing it later, after i had to call out the emergency troops of anger and denial, marching along merrily to the military beat of It's Not Broken If I Can Fix It (Fuck You). so it all feels very real and very sad, but lasting and like something that's true instead of the insane disco melody found in The Worst Thing That Ever Happened, Times Two.

but, of course, all things in their time, and it is time. i think eventually it would become increasingly difficult to continue this building up of trust in myself, and being okay, and being able to comfort myself and take care of myself. and turn to God alone i think. what's interesting is that six months ago i was in a panic because i was constantly listening to the piano-fueled ballad Who's Going To Take Care of Me When I'm In Trouble (Help)? but these days, that one is rarely played. it's been all about the aucoustic guitars and Will I Be Okay, After All (I'm Scared)?

so there's all that, just for you. God has always, always taken the best care of me. even when i am convinced there will be no new progress, no new improvements, no strength and no help, no understanding and no comfort, and no no no peace, He always has someone for me, to tell me what He wants to say, to remind me, to love me in approximately one billion different ways. i take pieces of every one with me, and each success i have they are a part of. so many different and interesting and wildly contrasting or uncannily similar people in my life, and i love them (you) all. thanks for it.

if only i didn't have this fucking malaria, we'd be all cool baby.