Tag Archives: moving

tonight: well worn

Once upon a time I used to blog. Regularly. It’s been months, though, but I feel pressed to get back to writing.
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well worn and cross legged on the floor
borderline despairing the TO DOs
they masquerade and manipulate the importance of the task
sorting piles of well worn stuff
needed or not tossed in a box or a bag
to move or to goodwill
steps onward, upward, down the lane
to move on towards goodwill
i hope. oh yes, i hope.

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seven: depression

not  every day,
not even most days,
just some days
some sad, sunken days
that fog sets in
dimming dreams
weakening heartbeat
stealing life from the living

I struggled most with depression when I moved from Toronto to Texas four years ago.  I ached for purpose, feeling uprooted and insecure.  I wrapped that insecurity around myself like an ill-fitting sweater, uncomfortable and itchy.  I wore it for months.

That God had called me back to Texas for a season was not in question.  I knew I was where I was supposed to be.  Still, I wrestled with the ghost that was my perceived best years left behind.  Instead of grieving and moving on, I camped out: sad, isolated and discontented.

I wanted something more than here.  I did not consider the fact that something more could be here.

One day I woke up and decided to do something different, to shift gears a bit.  It had been a few months since I moved.  I went for a run.  I don’t even know why.  I couldn’t run very far.  I huffed and puffed.  Was I really that out of shape?

But something shifted in that run.  I ran the next day and the next.  I started eating better.  I drank less alcohol.  And one day I ran away from my depression.  That is God’s kindness to me, leading me into radical life change, as Eugene Peterson would say.

I know some people struggle with depression day in and day out for years.  It still sneaks up on me from time to time.  It is ugly and hard and unplesant.  My depression eventually got exposed for the lie that depression is and feeds off of.  I had not walked away from everything when I moved home.  I had stepped into something more.  I got off easily, and it saddens me to see friends whose path with depression is longer and more difficult than mine.

Sometimes my eyes still need help seeing.  But most days even when I don’t love it here, I still find myself hopeful, at least for moments if the feeling does not linger.  For this I am thankful.

And for that depression that set in when I transitioned to Texas, well, I’m thankful for it as well.  For it gave me running, which has become an essential rhythm in my life.  But we’ll save that for another day.