“Now how about you get out of bed, go downstairs, and make yourself a cup of coffee?” God asked. So I did.

Photo by tabitha turner on Unsplash

July 14, 2019

I went to bed early last night. I tell mom I’m not feeling well. But actually, I’m depressed.

I’ve created a bit of a roller coaster ride for myself over the last few days. Actively feeding my compulsions. Layering the complications of potential involvement with a man over all the other nasty regular old life stuff I’m gracefully attempting to manage at this moment. A very nice man, indeed very kind, very nice. But one that will not be in my life.

I’m sad. But everything happens for a reason. He said that to me! When he was telling me we wouldn’t see one another again. He maybe doesn’t know I say that all the time, and believe it through and through. Such a very nice man. So very kind. Alas.

So this morning, I was lying in bed, trying to go back to sleep instead of live. But of course that only works for so long. I was going through my usual morning prayer time with God. Which consists of a series of tiresome questions that are pretty much the same ones I scream at the poor man every day since I figured out how to start asking the unanswerable question “Why”. How old are we when we start asking that? Two? It’s a very good thing He is the author of patience. I’m certain I try…