Full and Fatigued


I’ve no organization or aim for this particular post, except to relish in small graces, simple joys, the little things.  It will be a mixture of blurbs, explanations, and reasons. It’s the fruit of a tired but so very grateful mind, body, and spirit.  I have a habit of writing myself to conclusions, in these spaces–wandering through sentences, leaping from paragraph to paragraph, in an effort to convey that which I don’t know I already know.  Those truths that I find myself grasping onto at the close of a post are deep within me at the beginning, but it takes a bit of blacksmith-ing to dig, find, spark, shock to life.  I find them in also in these tiny diamonds, precious gems to be held close to the heart.

I don’t have a terminal illness, but sometimes I wish I did. Sometimes I wish there was an end in sight. Instead, I have a “manageable” disease—which means that it’s up to me to make sure the numbers are good and the complications don’t pile up. I don’t always have the psychological stability or strength to do that. My life has become a journey of not giving up, a journey of starting again tomorrow and loving myself today and trusting God with everything.

The above is a Facebook status I posted yesterday.  Why am I putting it here?  And why first?  Well, it pretty much sums up this entire semester for me.  It has been hard.  So very hard.  I have cried, I have screamed, I have stayed in bed weighed down with despair and anxiety and I have forced myself into the company of others to benefit from community.  I am not perfect, and I often feel incredibly inadequate, horrendously incompetent.  But that doesn’t matter.  I am living, and I am fighting, and I am loved–by myself and by so many people around me.

Second item on the list–homework.  Due to the physical challenges this semester and the emotional toll its taken, I have often been fatigued and am rarely able to concentrate.  If there seems to be one thing I can do superbly well, it is sleep.  I had a hard time getting out of bed today and missed breakfast, but I made it through all of my classes (9 AM – 3 PM) without major emotional meltdowns or struggling to concentrate–a hell of a feat for my Tuesdays and Thursdays this semester.  Moreover, I was able to focus and be productive this evening and through dinner.  It a rare sort of moment when I say I did all my homework and am genuinely grateful to have been able to complete the task.  I developed great study skills over my past few years in college, but man–to know you have the ability to use them while faced with the reality that it’s physically impossible for you to do so…  Talk about a challenge.  What sweet relief to have the energy to keep up with and enjoy the rigors of academia–even if it’s only for a day.

The weather here has finally shifted into something resembling late summer, almost fall.  The cloudy days are becoming more frequent, and with that I have inaugurated the season with the proper music: Frank Sinatra.  When the sun isn’t on holiday from its daily shining, you need a little extra pep to sail through your day.  For that, there is Frank Sinatra, Dean Martin, and all the great classics of swing and big band.  Tis the season, no?

There is more, but my energy runs low.  Suffice it to say–may I boast?–I have been richly blessed by friends near and far, faceless and familiar.  I may not always be strong, and I may not always have hope, but I’v realized something this semester.  Without the knowledge of all those in my life who are the hands and feet of Jesus, angels and heroes, soul twins, God with skin on–without this army behind me, I would have easily given up long ago.  The sky burst a blood vessel today as the sun was setting, and though at times I lay prone and bleeding, barely breathing, there is always just enough Love to sustain me through the night and into the break of day.

Beloved

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About thefreescribbler

My life is one of words. I am a scribbler, whose thoughts are best expressed through adjectives and phrases and punctuation marks. I would not go so far as to call myself a writer, although many would disagree. I’m characterized more by my unfinished works and half-embodied ideas, scraps of stories and parts of poems. Maybe one day I’ll be a writer, but I’m okay with being a scribbler right now. It fits my personality and style, and best expresses my aims. I’m not trying to create some lofty version of literature. I’m just a kid blogging about life. View all posts by thefreescribbler

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