Life sometimes seems to be moving along pretty well. Then I get too comfortable. Blah. Every time I get comfortable, something seems to happen. Something being anything, anything that can give me discomfort, anyway.
I feel like I’m wading through mud. It’s gross, messy, smelly, and exhausting. I want out. Where’s solid ground? It would be nice to give up, but I can’t. Not yet. I haven’t worked hard enough. I haven’t tried long enough. I want a hug. I want lies to stop. I want truth. I want change.
I need to change too though. I’m trying to.
Why do certain frustrations and wounds rub open again and again? Sometimes new wounds grow on top of the old ones. It’s painful. Really painful.
It’s easy to bury what I’m uncomfortable with. It’s too easy to pretend like things are okay. Let’s get real.