It wasn't a matter of writer's block; I have plenty to write about. It was a matter of time block. I didn't have space for a lot last week and unforunately blogging (and sleep) were the things to go.
I missed blogging and not being able to do something I really love, as well as feeling limited and unable to do a lot of things that I wanted to do, left me feeling bitter.
Bitterness is a horrible thing. Even the word-- that double "t"-- sounds harsh. There's no softness. Bitter is a biting ache that seeps in and stays awhile. I'm embarrassed to admit, it's something that I've been struggling with quite a bit this month.
I let myself get upset, or jealous, because the shop has been in a busy season- - almost too busy and overwhelming -- my day job has felt like a lot. And other things have piled up on my plate and while these towers of tasks seem tall, I have not worked at all to look beyond them-- to see the good things in my life.
This preoccupation with all.of.the.things on my plate paired with a deep-seated exhaustion is what makes me bitter.
I feel bitter toward myself -- that I choose to put so much on myself -- and bitter toward others who I imagine living much more carefree lives. And then I get into this spiral -- more and more bitter each busy day. And then there's this moment, where you're like-- "what is the matter with me? It's the Christmas season. I need to feel all of the joy! And drink a latte and see Christmas lights and bake cookies..." and that doesn't really help, does it. It might just make it worse.
But I'm trying to move past it-- to move my little towers of to-do lists aside and see the good in life. It's my prayer right now, that I can see past this moment where I feel overwhelmed, exhausted and undone.
There's a song that we play at church a lot. It was written by one of the church members and the chorus resonates me so clearly with me right now. It's become my anthem:
hold me close, away from the bitter
out of the cold, wash me in the river
lay me beside still water, and green pasture
and I'll find rest,
and I'll find my rest in you.
hold me close by andrew platter