I don’t have much to say anymore.
And still I have so much to say.
I wish I could have some inspiring blog post or creative writing piece, but today (and for a while) I’m just gonna go with some brutal honesty.
My soul hangs heavy. My life is a mess. I can’t get by one day without giving into selfishness or laziness or ugly thoughts or depression or isolation or secrecy.
I feel like a juggler. There are so many juggling balls that I’m trying to keep in the air: healthy living, academics, friendships, church service, taking care of Goldie, keeping apartment clean, not spending too much, sleeping enough, staying off time-wasting websites, washing the dishes, reading books, updating my site, contacting long-distance friends, praying, exercising, walking Goldie, talking with family, writing, making art, meeting new people, etc.
And I can’t keep them in the air. I can barely juggle five things. It’s almost easier to just let the juggling balls lie on the ground, even if it takes more work in the long run. I know it’s better to do dishes every day, but I just let them pile up. I know it’s best to talk to friends through the week, but I forget.
I can get a hold of things for a day or maybe a week– but eventually it all becomes too overwhelming and I drop the ball. And drop another. And another. And another.
I can’t just go out and say this, because to speak these words– “I feel like a failure”– is like admission of defeat.
I know we’re all broken. I know nobody is perfect. I know God is with me. I know this is just a transitional time in my life. I know all these things, but it doesn’t really help.
I don’t know what posting this will do. Maybe someone will read it and send me an email. Maybe someone is looking at this in the future and will choose not to hire me because of this brutal honesty. Maybe no one will read this. And that’s fine. I don’t really have anything to say anyway.