Bare Minimum, May 2020

It's easy to blame myself. And then exonerate myself. And return with, "You just don't want to acknowledge your laziness and lack of love. You've basically done the bare minimum as a friend".

I've tried to be encouraging, but have I meant what I said? How often have I shaken my head inwardly,  "Can't X just get over XXX?"
I have been relieved at our distance. I have been quick to think "not my problem". I do need to have boundaries, I'm no one's savior. Yet, is this love?
Is this how Jesus would see the sufferings, the sensitivities, the illnesses of others?
Please help, Lord. Show me what is true, and help me to accept it. 

Listless, May 8 2020

Dear Jesus, please help me. I feel very gray and stupid. Wanting things inordinately. Being horribly careless about other things and people.

I want to be able to shop at BB's and thrift stores and to borrow movies from the library. I want to swing dance and contra dance, and sing at church, and hold babies, and pet dogs. And I want to play music with friends.

I don't want to talk on the phone. And I'm itchy to check messages, but at the same time I don't want to reply to anything. And my food feels tiresome and monotonous. And my work feels the same. I don't feel much need for money, although I guess I'd rather make it than not.

It's cold and damp outside. I am such a spoiled, ignoble humbug. Please. Help.
Please stir me up to love again. Help me do the next little thing attentively, willingly, obediently, joyfully.

The Most Pathetic Love, May 1 2020

I'm in another spike of magnetism. It might be hormonal. But that's boring. I do need hope for  a little  romance in my life. And to not always look at it through snide, self-critical, self-conscious eyes. That's the most pathetic thing of all, and shows a weak affected sort of love, that can't stand to seem ridiculous. Please help me have a firm, bold, self-forgetful love. And to have hope that I can be loved that way, in return. 

Few and Far Between, April 26, 2020

How strange it is to find myself at a place of ill preparation and low motivation for everything I've really wanted to do. For marriage and motherhood. Adoption. For a career in art. Even for sustained, supportive, close friendship.

Is this what growing up is like? Discovering everything you want is hard, and you may not even like it, and the days your choice and your passion coincide are few and far between? I hope not.