… a post will appear.
Life has both stepped up and down a notch.
I’ve decided to go down to part time for school. That suffocating, completely overwhelmed feeling just became unbearable. So a decision had to be made. And it was. I just hope it was the right one.
Thanks to all of you who have shared good news with me.
I have some good news of my own: I finally got promoted at work.
Yes, that’s right. I have a real job now, complete with 401k and vacation time and all that good stuff. I almost feel adult.
I’ve cracked open Approaching Zion, and I think I am finally going to settle in with it tonight.
I’m experiencing a weird phenomenon, however. I am picking up books and reading them and finding no joy in them.
I’ve started three books this month just to place them back down. Am I just reading the wrong books? Am I really that mentally exhausted that I cannot read? I don’t know how to process this; it’s completely virgin territory.
At the same time, I’ve opened this same window more than once, only to close it, finding no joy and no release in writing. Was my personality somehow removed from my body, and I think I’m the same, but I can’t possibly be, as I am reacting to past stimuli in a way which is completely out of character?
There are stories to be told and insights to be shared, but none of that will be happening here tonight.
Is it time to call an exorcist?