Weakness

Day dawns with another mental groan, turning over in the bed and in my mind, with the sun shining through the windows.  Except it's not shining in my face.  I was asleep for that part.  I might hazily remember hearing the alarm that I set to help myself get up earlier, but I think I switched it off and fell asleep again.  The upper level of the bunk-bed is vacant.  Why do I do this to myself?

I head downstairs, spend a little too long checking a couple of websites on the computer, and have a late breakfast.  Too little school, too little physical activity.  The day ends eventually after that, and I repeat it again the next day, always wishing, always telling myself that I'll change my habits.  It never happens.  The thing is, spending too many hours before a screen doesn't actually tell me anything new.  It's possible that I'm hiding from something.  But what?  My own lack of motivation?  My loneliness, my sadness, past wounds that I have been crippled by rather than learned from?  It's been so long that I'm not even sure I remember anymore.

I used to spend time writing down everything that I had to work out in my mind, but I've gotten stuck on a loop and I keep working through the same pain over and over.  I'm too tired to hit the reset button, or maybe there isn't one.  For all that I've been through, somehow my skills are failing to perform the same simple tasks they used to handle smoothly.  I'm still me, and things haven't really changed much, so what's the problem?

Maybe it's loneliness.  I drew a certain strength from deceiving myself about certain people, and now that I've learned the truth, that support is gone, and the others that I've taken for granted or only been able to draw on now and then -- they just don't do it anymore, because I've grown out my branches beyond them and so much of my strength was focused on those new parts of myself that I can't recede back to the spaces I used to fit comfortably in.

I'm not sure why I can't return to the Lord's arms these days, but it's grueling just to focus my mind enough.  Maybe I should learn to just sit and be, like I used to say.  Self-discipline is hard to come by, though, and I'm running so firmly on autopilot that it's tremendously hard to wrench myself from the daily routine.

Deep breaths.

In and out.  One, two.

Relaxing muscles remind me it's been ages since I even stopped for calm.  I'm holding my heart in my hand, loosening the hard dirt and grime under a gentle flow of warm water.

Jesus, wash over me.

It's strange how we can sleepwalk along, never knowing that we're catching our feet on chains, dragging the weight along, until our legs give out.  By that time, of course, we've already fallen so completely asleep that we don't even realize we've fallen.  We're so weak from dragging our burdens that we can't support our own spirit.

Dirt-turned-mud breaks away.

When our throat is dry and we haven't had water in ages, it's impossible to make more than a croak or a whisper, impossible to cry for help.  Tears require water, and we can't even weep.

What a blessing that God can hear even the faintest of whisper, see exhausted sadness even when our faces are on the ground.

Lips taste a hint of water, and finally form an audible word.  Help...

Gentle, strong hands.  More water.  A comforting smile.  My child, I am with you always.  Abide in Me.  Let Me restore your soul, weary one.

But...I don't even remember how.

Don't try.  Let Me be your strength.  Breathe.

Deep breaths.

One, two.

Three.

Heartbeat starts, faint.

I must hold on.  This spark of life is easily lost.  I may have to do this once, twice more.  But I must succeed.  As long as my mind can hold on to that simple thought, simple word, then there is hope.  As long as I can remember.

Help.