Tuesday, April 30, 2013

The Years the Locust Ate

“Anne, I don't want to live. . . . Now listen, life is lovely, but I Can't Live It. I can't even explain. I know how silly it sounds . . . but if you knew how it Felt. To be alive, yes, alive, but not be able to live it. Ay that's the rub. I am like a stone that lives . . . locked outside of all that's real. . . . Anne, do you know of such things, can you hear???? I wish, or think I wish, that I were dying of something for then I could be brave, but to be not dying, and yet . . . and yet to [be] behind a wall, watching everyone fit in where I can't, to talk behind a gray foggy wall, to live but to not reach or to reach wrong . . . to do it all wrong . . . believe me, (can you?) . . . what's wrong. I want to belong. I'm like a jew who ends up in the wrong country. I'm not a part. I'm not a member. I'm frozen.”
― Anne SextonAnne Sexton: A Self-Portrait in Letters

Joel 2:25 I will restore to you the years the swarming locust has eaten.
"I want to belong.  I'm like a jew who ends up in the wrong country.  I am not a part.  I'm not a member.  I am frozen."  Uncertainty surrounds everything about my existence.  Its too much.  Nothing.  No area of my life is stable.  It can't be counted on.  Not in terms of my heart.  Rolling the dice on that one. Not in terms of my job.  What job? Not my health.  When is that next depressive episode gonna hit?  I have triggers, People.  Things I am so scared of happening that the thoughts paralyze me.  And every night, I pray "let this year be better, please God, let it not hurt this time."  Aren't I suppose to have more faith than this?  Why is it easier for some people?   Its not fair.  They don't have to try half as hard.  And because I am too tired to pray for myself, my friend prays for me: "Give back the years the locust ate."  

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