I’ve gone through many addictions in my relatively short life. I’m not proud of a number of them. Others are of no consequence. Still others have their ups and downs, a cycle of choice and rejection, again and again.
Coffee is a good example of the last. I go through a period of time where I find myself drinking it, day in and day out, without fail. I want to feel it, like a fire coursing through my veins, keeping me from exhaustion. I view every moment of sleep as a moment wasted, and I try to avoid the night. My main goal is to stave back slumber until only absolutely necessary, and then succumb as my eyes begin to blur.
Then I realize that I don’t want to live like that, reliant on a drug to keep me up and about, and I stop. How long I stop varies. A day passes, then two, then the headaches start, and I fight through. A day after those headaches vanish passes, then two… then inevitably, I find myself taking a sip of the drink. I can’t escape it. It’s too tempting.
Maybe it’s not problematic that I don’t have self-mastery over such a small area. I don’t know, I just hate the feeling I get after going without it, and the feeling I also get when I spend too much on the drink at school.
It’s also clear to me that if I don’t have self-mastery in this small area, then perhaps it’s also safe to say that I will find difficulty in self-mastery over larger matters, which… I already have.
Over these past weeks, I feel like there are lapses in my memory, gaps where there should be something, where I should be remembering… something important. My life has reached the point where it’s becoming a blur, and the moments that stick out are my only reference points to hold on to. Alas, some of them are not so conducive to keeping one’s head on straight as I would like.
Still, I welcome the blur. The swirling colors, all coming together, in their various shades and hues. I would say I’m addicted to the feeling of spinning in the current. Any second that I find myself emerging is a moment of weakness to me, and so I inevitably seek to be busy. Busy busy busy. Ever thought about that word? It doesn’t always lead to being productive. So I get obsessed with this idea of being busy, I get addicted to the endless cycle, and things that are important become mere flashes in the mind, until I’m faced with the reality that I have work to do.
A procrastinator’s dream interrupted.
I don’t have any advice this time. I say a lot of things, trying to understand even myself, follow my own ideals, but as you can see, I’m not good about that. This is more a plea for help than anything I’ve posted before. I realize that I need prayers, that I don’t have everything together, and that if I can’t get most in place, some very vital life plans that lie contingent upon that fact might go very, very awry. I wish to give my due attention to the spectacular now, as I have said, but even that seems to be passing by too quickly and yet too slowly. I feel like something’s catching up to me, yet it’s taking its sweet time about it.
I want to go, discover who I’m truly called to be, whether by determining that I’m not to go a certain route or that I should in fact go. But it feels so far. So very far. If you can’t tell already, I have a lot of fears about how things are supposed to go. I know I have to trust, and that there is someone who can be trusted, but moments have this infuriating fashion of taking their sweet… time. Trapped, but hoping to find that spark here.
I don’t know, but I have no time to write more. I’m about to go to this thing called driving and square dancing, and it should be fun. I want to find joy in it, but I’ve had difficulties lately. So I request, once more, that you pray for me, as I pray for you. Because I’ve been addicted to a lot of things that have held me back from being me, a sentiment I’m sure many of you may share. And I suppose, if it’s any comfort, though time is painful, it also brings healing. And maybe I’ll be searching for a long while, but I can at the very least say that I’m still seeking. That perhaps is an addiction I can accept.