the dark mud

I feel as though I am writing in hiding... the apartment is quiet except for the sound of the dishwasher and all is dark and nocturnal-feeling. And it's not even 11pm! For the first time in my married life, Dave has gone to bed before me.

So, alone in the dark quiet I type away.  My mind has been spinning the last couple weeks, which is exhausting. Sometimes writing helps clear my head to what is important. 

I just finished Anne Jackson's new book Permission to Speak Freely. I devoured it in two nights. The book was fantastic, and I challenge others to read it too. I'm too lazy to leave my cozy quietness to get the book (it's still by my bed) to quote from it, but a lesson that has been floating around in my head and heart since reading the book is this: What am I scared to say in church... or maybe just say out loud? Admit. Confess. Take claim over. How am I really feeling? Am I scared? What is to be afraid of? And, honestly, Cori, how is your relationship with Christ right now.

I'll be honest and confess one thing for now: I've been really angry lately. Angry and overwhelmed and exhausted and worried and busy and, sometimes I worry, a little depressed. 

I should note that I haven't been angry at Dave.

Really, I have everything I've ever wanted right now. I am married to an amazing man whom I love so, so much. We both love Jesus and church and helping others. We live in a home where our very basic needs are met. I have a wonderful family and a new family to get to know. And I have an amazing job, where I was just promoted to Office Support Director... I get to be the bossy boss! Scary! (That feels weird to me still.) It's what I've always wanted.

But little things are setting me off. I desperately want to be slow to anger, but sometimes... oh sometimes... I let my mind wander and wonder about all the things I feel that are unfair or out-of-my-control or just plain sad.  I give this anger permission to be ugly and confusing and mad.  And it settles in me like black mud. Weighing me down. Stealing my joy.

In the past, when I've felt this way I do strange things. I re-do my room. I cut my hair. I spend too much money. Watch too many movies. Dumb things. Escaping things.

And I do good things: I go on trips to the beach to think and pray. I have long conversations with trusted friends. I hug my cat. I listen to worship songs. I force myself to stop and let things sink in.  I evaluate: is this really that bad? What's the worse that can happen. 

I am a thinker. I am melancholy. My mind never stops. And somehow, I need to let go of this heaviness that has me tied down. 

I pray.

Confess. Forgive. Let go. Heal. Love. 

And I feel a little better.

I have so much to learn...

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Dave must be awake, because he keeps calling out my name. No doubt, he's missing having me by his side. Strange how quickly you grow accustomed to sharing a bed.

 

 

Comments

[Nancy Spicer]

Cori, I completely enjoyed you writings you should write a book. It sounds like a night of no sleep and talking it over with God. I wish I had more to say that was really profound but God gives us emotions to help mold and shape us and he uses nights to reveal to us his plan. Be Courageous in what he has to say to you. Your his daughter and he has so much in store for you and you life. Love Nancy.