run dry

It has never truly occurred to me how tightly wound up I was, that at the slightest snap, every little thing I've worked on to keep together came unraveling at lightning speed. I can't even bring myself to admit the catalyst, cause, effect. Hiding in bed in paralysing naps have pretty much been what my weekends have been like. Gales and angry drizzles don't help either, so much so that I've caught a cold as well. Despite myself, I still am surrounded by wonderful, loving friends who make me take my meds and prepare home cooked food. I will never underestimate the magic of a "how are you feeling" text again. Community is everything here, and I see God in every little step and I'm still marveling at how anything came to be. I've had many lows in the past 2 weeks, and sometimes I don't know how to reconcile being so consumed by my own guilt and grief and still crave grace.

Laundry and linens at midnight can be therapeutic, and look, 4 more weeks then I'm home. Being homesick for the familiarity and comfort of home, knowing that I can wake up in a place where I don't have to keep on my tip toes, I miss that the most. Yet, I know coming home will have it's fair share of unfamiliarity. I need to find my identity in the everlasting, not in people or places nor fleeting moments. I don't know, I just want to retreat to my bed cave.