I’m physically tired. What I really want to do is put on a series of movies until it’s time to sleep. I don’t want to go on my afternoon walk. I don’t not want to do an oil pastel drawing, and I don’t want to go to the prayer chapel.

FFFFFFFFFFFFFFFF….

But, yes I do. I do want to finish the week. Mainly because I’m scared of what it means if I don’t finish. It’s this lingering dread in the dark corner of my mind. The dread whispers fear laced condemnations- “if I skip my recent ‘normal routine’ I’ll slip. I’ll slip back down the slope into the abyss of nothingdom.”  

So I sit on this couch typing, half exhausted, half willing myself to get the fuck up and go do something, wondering if today is the day I cut myself some slack, and in doing so begin to fall back into what I hate. 

But what if that’s not true? What if the routine isn’t you either? What if you can allow yourself the grace of not living between two extremes. 

I have five hours left of this day. I would like to get my ten thousand steps, and go sit on the grass for time with Jesus. I think I’ll cut out the oil pastel for today and do two tomorrow.  And I can still veg out in front of my laptop. Watch Walter Mitty, my new favorite movie. (Love the sound track.) 

Lord, thank you. Thank you for giving me tools to get out of mental/emotional extremes, to be able to give myself grace and find the road onward. 

Amen.