I feel stuck. Like literally, well, everyone, I wonder…is the pandemic? Is the general malaise? Is it a change in the air that comes every year with the first chilly breath of winter?
Or is it so much more than that? Is it me, realizing the past version of myself isn’t what I want anymore…but being too scared to break the mold. Is it me seeing myself on my own for the first time in years, and being scared to trust that she’s worth loving just as she is? Or is it me, fearing that I’ll never escape a past that seems to cling to me no matter where I go or how far I run?
This part of my life feels like it’s moving in slow motion. My feet want to run but the rest of me feels stuck in a muddy bog, just slowly sinking further down with every attempt to scramble out. It’s exhausting. There’s no other word for it. And no matter what I do, I fear failure. I fear failing the people I love. I fear failing myself.
The adage “good things come to those who wait” may not have ever been one I was good at following, but I do know enough to trust God’s timing. But how do you stop yourself from wishing, daily, for that clock to speed up just a little? How do you trust that you know nothing — and He knows everything — as you watch the world spin by without you? How do you find moments of gratitude amidst the frustration of not feeling like your life and the decisions you want to make are in your own hands?
And worse — what if they were? What if you had to actually make a decision either way? Let something go because you know it’s not good…
