You don’t understand. I can’t brush my dog. I can’t brush my dog. I can’t brush my dog. He is fed, he is loved, he has warmth & a cozy home. No, I can’t brush him.
I have no capacity. I have no capacity. How many times do I have to keep saying. I have no capacity. I have no capacity.
God, I can’t even breathe in my own home. I want to cry and cry and cry until I can’t cry anymore. I want to weep and weep until I can’t weep anymore.
Who am I fooling?
Help, me Lord, I am drowning. Truly. I am. Drowning. And no one knows it but me.
I keep waving my hand, saying I can’t but no one knows or understands. How do I keep going? I don’t. I need your help. I am embarrassed to write this.
It is truly a joke to keep wanting something else, for things to look different, when they just don’t.
I am done. I think I am absolutely done. If I could only run away and hide from this mess. I can’t; it covers me, smothers me, drowns me. Breath, air, if only I could inhale and exhale. I just want to run. Away. Far. Far. Far. Away. So far…
Lord, please. Help.
Yet you, LORD, are our Father. We are the clay, you are the potter; we are all the work of your hand. Isaiah 64:8 (NIV)