At a loss for words.

 Dear Reader,

I try to have something interesting or inspiring to post. Today, well, the last two days, I have been at a loss for words. I have been depressed and anxious over COVID19 and the upcoming school year. I am struggling to function right now because my brain chemistry (which is well medicated, thanks to my medical care professionals) refuses to cooperate with my will. I feel like I am falling to pieces slowly and that I am, ultimately, engaged in an enormous act of hubris to try to be a priestess, author, mother, and wife all at the same time.

Some Christian authors from the Middle Ages describe this as the 'Dark Night of the Soul.' It is the time where we struggle to see the light of faith and that which is holy. Grief and terror comes in great waves that threaten to swamp our little boats in the great sea of reality, possibly to bear us down into the realms below from which we can not escape but by Divine grace. I'm well acquainted with this period of darkness for it comes over me regularly due to my bipolar's severe depressive episodes.

As I try to forge my way forward through this period of self-doubt, fear, and grief, I do my best to remember that the Truth of it all is I am not alone in this. I do my best to remember the Truth that I will emerge from this stronger and healthier than I was when I first entered into it. As I thole this, it's hard to remember that it will get better. 

This is where I place myself in the hands of the Deam Mysterium and trust her to guide me. This is where I walk with the gods and try very hard to remember that their faith in me is not misplaced, no matter how inadequate I feel.