willful

The anxiety consumes me.

If those around me only knew the trainwreck I've created out of the possibilities in my head. I want to do what's right, but why is it so hard? The dark cloud follows me, waiting to release its moisture. I ignore it. I'm no longer scared of it. I've accepted it as part of me. In Romans 7:14-25, Paul explains:

'So the trouble is not with the law, for it is spiritual and good. The trouble is with me, for I am all too human, a slave to sin. I don’t really understand myself, for I want to do what is right, but I don’t do it. Instead, I do what I hate. But if I know that what I am doing is wrong, this shows that I agree that the law is good. So I am not the one doing wrong; it is sin living in me that does it. And I know that nothing good lives in me, that is, in my sinful nature. I want to do what is right, but I can’t. I want to do what is good, but I don’t. I don’t want to do what is wrong, but I do it anyway. But if I do what I don’t want to do, I am not really the one doing wrong; it is sin living in me that does it. I have discovered this principle of life—that when I want to do what is right, I inevitably do what is wrong. I love God’s law with all my heart. But there is another power within me that is at war with my mind. This power makes me a slave to the sin that is still within me. Oh, what a miserable person I am! Who will free me from this life that is dominated by sin and death? Thank God! The answer is in Jesus Christ our Lord. So you see how it is: In my mind, I really want to obey God’s law, but because of my sinful nature, I am a slave to sin.'

Paul's struggle reminds me that this inner battle isn't unique—it's human. Because of this, I don’t feel alone in this journey with my cloud.

I'm given so much advice, please don't say anything anymore. I know I need to talk about it. I know it will all fall into place. Everything will be okay in the end. If it's not okay, then it's not the end. I could write the fucking self-help book if I cared enough to. I'm not complaining, and I'm sorry if it comes across that way. I just wish I knew how to make it better. I wish life wasn’t this puzzle that gets more complicated as you level up.

I'm told my writings are too raw. I’m too obvious. I never said I wasn’t. Wait, as I read over this, I worry I come off as depressed. I'm not. I'm just reflective. I'm also almost thirty, and apparently, for a woman with no kids, that’s scary. I'm staring at a clock that is impatient and demanding. The clock and the cloud are best friends, and they love my company.