One of Those Days

 I started redefining "days" years ago. What makes a good day good? What makes a bad day bad? If a two-minute phone call (with a mean person) can ruin a day, then can't a perfect cup of tea redeem it? How many in-a-rows of stuff does it take to really meet the good-bad qualifier? 

Today had one of those two-minute moments. A moment that can wreck if I let it, or just be a moment that informs and redirects. I'm not sure which way it's going. 

I was fine earlier. As the day progresses, my heart has started racing. This could be hormones. Could be weather. Could be worry. I'm worried it's worry. 

Satan knows when to attack. He's immortal. He's got literally nothing better to do with his time than wait for me to feel weak and exploit it. He finds my frailty hilarious. He has every advantage. He is lord of this world. God gave him that after the Fall. Every physical part of me is under his control, if God allows it. 

I'm in that pre-exhausted moment when I look ahead and see the work to be done and I just can't. I don't want to do it. Not again. 

I don't have to take all the steps. I only have to take the next step. Whatever that is. 

Five months ago, I felt exactly this way. I couldn't see a way out. I didn't think it would ever be OK. But it was. It can be again. One day at a time. One step at a time. We can do this. We can keep swimming. God is here. 

Blessed are You, Lord our God, King of the universe, who mercifully restores my soul within me. Great is Your faithfulness. 

Expansion

 Logged in this morning and discovered yesterday's post saved as a draft so I missed my goal of 1 more post than the last big posting year. Thanks, life. You suck. 

When the Wolfriders met the Gliders, the two leaders have a powwow about worldviews. Cutter accuses Winnowill of letting her people feed on themselves. They've spend centuries inside the mountain, insulated from the real world, looking only inward for purpose. Little does he know she has retained her vitality in exactly the opposite way. 

My fear-response to loss is to insulate. Every major loss I've suffered in life has led to removing any chance of ever suffering that kind of loss again. Loss of my dad, loss of a potential marriage partner, loss of a rabbit, loss of a home. This makes for a small life, and, eventually, I began to feed on myself. I was starving without dying. 

Enter recovery. Going outside of self to empathize with another. To learn new coping skills. To do different uncomfortable or frightening things because that's what life is. Life is always uncomfortable or frightening. Some people thrive on that. Some people have to learn it the hard way. 

I was ready to give up cats. I've lost enough of them and the pain only gets worse. I think God told me no. I may be justifying my actions or misreading the situation, but I was quite serious when I told Him I was done. If I had to choose between Him and cats, I would choose Him and I'd try to be happy about it. And then He threw two more cats into my life. And I truly started learning about trust. 

Because I can't give up loss and still live. There is only loss ahead of me now unless I expand and seek out new challenges. Find new friends. Find ways to serve. Find skills to learn. Do something instead of waiting for it all to end. It may start with cats because God knows I will try harder to succeed with a cat than I ever would with a human. I hope, though, that I will continue to expand into humanity. Into a broader world with different experiences that I may hate, but will still provide meaning. That's my goal for 2024. 

Keep the faith.  

Goodbye, 2023. You Were...Hard

 I considered other adjectives but hard is probably the most accurate and the most neutral. I can't say I enjoyed 2023. I had moments - weeks, even - where I would say I felt happy. Where I succeeded in living in the Now of Wolf Thought. Looking at my journal and really adding them up, though...it was hard. 

I suffered the worst bout of anxiety I have yet experienced in the first months. Started by a cat, of course. That cost me a friendship, cost me two and a half cats, cost me my health, and cost me a slew of doctor bills while I ruled out heart issues. 

What it did not cost me was my God. This time, I did something different. Something I promised myself I would do the next time life got hard. I asked God to stay with me and thanked Him for bringing me through. No recriminations. No blame. No demands for the pain to stop. Just breathing in the seconds, accepting that life happens and doing my best to swim. 

I guess this was the year of acceptance. Accepting that Jesus isn't coming back anytime soon. Accepting that grief will not kill me. Accepting that living angry is a pit with no bottom. Accepting that life is not and never will be safe. 

The good news is that life eventually ends. I can't go back, but I don't want to. No matter how horrible a day is, when it's done, it's done. Forget it. Keep swimming. 

I also started saying yes this year, to the surprise of my family. If I cannot make life safe, I may as well take risks and do stuff as stay home and not do stuff. I'm equally tired at the end. I could always get lucky and die, but I don't believe I'll ever die. Not until I'm old and crippled and completely alone. In the meantime, risking a bit to help others is a good way to take my mind off my troubles. We'll see how far I can swim in those waters. 

Welcome, 2024. I'm glad you're coming. I'm glad I will be that much closer to eternity. 

Keep the faith. 

Good Things that Happened in 2023

 I could do this tomorrow, but I needed to do it yesterday so I'm posting it today. 

I reconnected with My Lamb over a beloved cat. I now pray for both of them and the Good Shepherd daily. I added The Flash and Maestro (?) as a bonus. 

I learned - at great expense - that my heart is healthy. I will list it as a good thing, although it is the reason I have accepted that I will live another 50 years. If losing Caleb didn't cause physical damage, I am indestructible. 

I read The Anxiety Opportunity. I spent the first 50 years mitigating loss but it can't be put off forever. I will need to keep working and trusting in Jesus at the same time my heart races and I can't catch my breath. This book is teaching me to do that. Good thing, too, because no med I've tried yet has worked. Except maybe the GABA. 

Home improvements. I had the money to do a little upkeep on Gethsemane. 

Dandelion returned to God. I don't know exactly what that means but I've made peace with it. I hope to see him again in eternity. God holds him until that happens. 

Clover joined the Turtle Household. It took far longer than I expected but it appears to have been worth it. She has helped heal the year's losses a bit.

I found seabands for nausea, which allowed me and my brothers to go sailing together for the first time in perhaps 40 years. Next time, I may even drink with them. 

I started listening to No Agenda, then Moe Factz, then Curry & the Keeper. Not only are they entertaining and informative podcasts, they indicate a reconnection with the world that I abandoned during covid. 

Yo estudio espanol otra vez. 

I starting taking small risks in the name of service. Living has to be more than work and cats. Not sure what more or how much more, but I'll keep trying. I have lots and lots of time. 

Keep the faith. 

Pinpricks

 I listened to Moe Factz with Adam Curry, episode 96 yesterday, titled IDK, about 33 ways to fight a war. One of the higher ways was to attack in tiny, annoying skirmishes instead of full-on frontal assault. I thought of Satan. 

Yeah, big things attack sometimes but it's the daily grind of minor irritations that derail me most effectively. The nibbling of ducks. The continually tired, sore eyes with their big-ass floaters - that's what my optometrist calls them. Constantly exhausted yet unable to sleep. Eternally waiting for the next vomit attack. Sudden bouts of nausea, anxiety and pain for no external reason because that's part of The Turtle biology for this season. All of this compounded by hormones that refuse to stop churning and seek verbal release.  

Giving in to the rage doesn't help. There's no catharsis in yelling. Rage fuels rage. But there's no controlling it, either. I am constitutionally incapable of pretending I'm OK when I'm not OK. 

This has been a week of pinpricks. Of chemical washes. Of plans made and scuppered. Nothing huge. Nothing that would normally cause a moment of concern. But changes are on the horizon at work and at home and all bumps are magnified into mountains that extend for eternity in all directions. 

I always think I've figured out how to deal with this situation until life shows up and laughs at me. Then I have a choice. Flounder and splash and waste time railing at what I can't change, or do what millions of lives before me have done: keep swimming. 

I thank God that He's already forgiven what I will do next. If He hadn't, I'd be dead instead of alive to keep sinning. I thank God that change is constant and this horrible mood will change, too. Eventually. Sometimes acknowledging it makes it better; sometimes it doesn't. 

I'm sorry for everything that has and will happen, Lord. Thank You for loving me anyway. 

Keep the faith. 

A Prayer Regarding Change

 Blessed are You, Lord our God, King of the universe, who mercifully restores my soul within me. Great is Your faithfulness. 

Lord, You created change. You, the unchangeable being, made change as a gift to us. You give us the gift of growth, of learning, of adapting, of experiencing You in every iteration of our lives and experiences. 

It does not always feel like a gift. I like certainty. I like a sense of competence and familiarity. I don't like to be pushed or put out. I don't like the unknown. It sparks fear in my limbic system. Sometimes that fear is paralyzing. 

Be there for us in the uncertainty. Help us to trust You to walk with us, to walk us through whatever it is so we come out improved on the other side. We will emerge with a better understanding of Your grace and kindness and wisdom and mercy when we trust. 

Change is constant, Lord. There is no safety in life. Animals know this. They live and die hard. Short and sharp. Only humans believe it should be easy, and that is likely a memory of the Garden, where it was safe and easy. But we chose change, and You in Your wisdom and justice gave us what we asked for. Then, with mercy and grace, You stayed with us as we fight our way back into a fuller knowledge of Who You are. 

Thank You for walking with us. Thank You for not abandoning us to fear and meaninglessness. Thank You for providing a way. Thank You for giving us the gift of challenge and practice and improvement. Thank You for each new day and a new spirit within to face that day. Thank You for Your Spirit to comfort and guide as we go. 

Help us to listen. Help us to walk through and past the fear. 

In Jesus' name.