We all have our struggles, right? For Nero, it was psychotic delusions. For Van Gogh, it was the artist’s sometimes toxic power of perception. For me, it’s sleepless agitation and raging battles with hidden fear.
What brings on this act of self-disclosure? Another night of sleeplessness is upon me. A combination of too many jobs, too much on my mind, too much hi-vision talk too late at night, and a low tolerance for a little caffeine that put me over the edge.
Instead of lying in bed until 4 am (the common pattern on such nights), agitated and moving in and out of a quiet panic over the most hopeful of situations, I’ve decided to blog and create a place for others to know their own struggles are shared.
God is kind to me, but He rarely evidences it in rescuing me from these nights. I’ve noted that sometimes they fold into a deep state of prayer, and often revelation. At other times, I fall in love with my little family all over again. Still others, I’m drawn to pray for a few people for which I have faith. Still others, I simply fend off talons of fear and cry out to my silent God all through the night.
I hate these nights, quite honestly, but I’m learning to just keep moving forward. Sometimes I fear, as Churchill put it, the black dog will get me (depression), and keep me down. But for now, I trust.
Actually, writing some of this down, in such a public space as this blog, has been helpful. I might almost be feeling tired, if I let myself.
