When do you know you've had enough? Sitting in your room with the curtains drawn, knees cinched up, wondering what you're doing, where you're going, why it feel so hard to get up and keep trying.
But every time I leave the house, hands turn wet, heart beats fast, there's no safe place, no haven, I'm saving myself the possibilities of what could happen. But it's not helping. It's not sparing. I don't feel the benefit of being afraid, but restricted, trapped, caged, imprisoned, every form of barricaded.
The mind is a powerful thing. And while they say the heart doesn't listen, I beg to differ. My heart says trust while my brain is dishing up every what-if, what may, what can, why not, you can't, do not.
Pause to catch my breath. It's not there. Return to my room with the curtains closed together and researching. Google and I have a love-hate relationship. But I've gotten so good, I'm a walking encyclopedia of medical knowledge that helps everyone but myself. These are just precautionary measures I take because I don't like not knowing. Not knowing is the equivalent of unlikely (but in my book quite probable) doom. To Prepare before the hit. To Brace before impact. It's instinct.
Yet I'm told to change my focus. To talk myself out of it. But at the crest of fear, you lose the ability to reason. I know why that happens, too. It's the sympathetic nervous system's response; shuts down rationality and increases fear as calming thoughts simulates the parasympathetic nervous system, but you cannot have both peace and panic at the same time. (I said I researched too much.)
Worry is an illusion of control I utilize. I've become comfortable with it, but it won't lead me out of this. Worry is a shackle but faith is the key. When they say take a leap of faith, I think I'll be making a double bound, but that's the point. When you've had enough, and standing between you and hope is only an abyss of disappointment, you hesitate. What if I fall, will I be able to trust again?
This is the waiting room. Waiting for some green light to turn but I was given the go long ago. The choice is up to me. Whether I make it to the other side or fall, I'll sprout wings. Everyone falls short, but not so short as to believe victory is not within your grasp.
Basic line: I'm done fighting. I'm done battling. it's not working. But understand this first.
People assume fighting is what you have to do to survive. Again, flight or fight response, yet it's not always the case. Sometimes the fighting is not in fighting, but going on faith. It seemed to work for Moses parting the waters, Peter standing above the sea. For Sampson destroying the temple. For setting the captives free. For Noah building the ark. For Daniel in the den. For a rock to bring down a giant, and a Savior to save man.
I'm going by what faith brought throughout history, and compared to worry, I prefer it. Clearly I'm in good company.