Weightless Hope

I stood in the shower until the water fell cold on my head. I feel so unstable right now. We are standing on a foundation of glass. I'm afraid to breathe for fear of shattering it.

This last year and a half has left me much like a beaten dog. I flinch when someone tries to reach out and touch me. I'm skeptical of hope. I want to see a future. I want to see light in the distance but the hindrances block the view. I see things dark and feel myself anxious. I'm running out of oxygen, but I just can't stop to breathe.

I fear I'm drowning in this new normal. I can't love hard enough. I can't be good enough. I can't mend fast enough to stop the unraveling. I carry unrest in the pit of my stomach. When will I feel safe again?

My beaten heart needs a refuge. A home. A place of healing. A place to breathe. The shepherd's words draw me back from the edge of melancholy and remind me of one who knows my heart, knows my hurt.

I cry out to the Lord:
I plead for the Lord's mercy.
I pour out my complaints before him
and tell him all my troubles.
For I am overwhelmed
and you alone know the way I should turn...
You are my place of refuge.

-psalm 142

I pour out on my knees. Inhale. Exhale. Breathe.

It turns out hope doesn't weigh enough to shatter the glass.