On this crisp Autumn afternoon, I stare out of the window through the tilted blinds at the streets below as cars and pedestrians move toward their destinations with steady purpose. The traffic light at the intersection has gone rogue, blinking red. The trees have lost their verdancy and fullness as the leaves have changed color, shriveling in the process until they make their slow annual descent downward. A breeze stirs through the remaining leaves – one which I am sure is cold. I have no desire to step into this bracing cold, even if the sun is shining in a sky of robin’s egg blue.

On days like this, my gratitude for being able to afford this second floor, one-bedroom apartment becomes palpable. The fridge and cabinets are fully stocked, all the bills are paid and while my checking account has been drastically reduced; it is not negative.

At the beginning of this year, I prayed for God to actively change my negative mindsets and thought processes for more positive ones. Most of my life I’ve been a worrier, but I didn’t realize how much of a worrier I was until recently when I started taking stock of my thoughts. Even when nothing anxiety provoking was happening, I was delving on past mistakes, failures, issues and pondering the probabilities of present and future problems. This is untenable.

The process of changing one’s mind from old, set in thoughts and behaviors is itself an emotionally wearying one. That makes sense since thoughts are carried on neuronal highways that are strengthened the more they are used. What I have been doing is forcing my mind to focus on positives – telling myself that such and such good thing is happening or stopping myself from dwelling on past hurts.

Trust me when I say it’s gotten better but not easier. I’m sure that I’ve only skimmed the surface of this process but after 319 days, I am stronger. Anxious, worrying, fearful, suspicious, depressed thoughts not only drain our strength but they also prevent strength from growing. This is one of the reasons I have felt so fatigued for so long. Even when some good thoughts come, they are at most crushed, at minimum overwhelmed by the established negative thoughts.

A hope fills me now that I have not known. Additionally, I am TIRED of being sad. I don’t want to cry. I don’t want to be down-in-the-dumps. I don’t want to be stressed, anxious, unhappy and discouraged.

I am ready for joy to constantly and consistently flood my soul.

This has been a year of release. Not because I sought it but because I could no longer hold anything. I’ve always been able to find some energy to create energy to get going. Not so this year. All my drive, energy, desire and capacity disappeared. Nothing moved me. Life was meaningless. I was left as an empty, cold pot.

I’ve had moments like this but never a whole year like this – a year where I was even too tired to have emotions. I kept my counsel. After all, what did I have to say? I was done with living? I was done with pushing, striving, forcing to make things better?

With this came a frankness. Look here, I told God, I am terrified of you. I am terrified because it seems all you want are martyrs who do your bidding. Somehow our suffering is supposed to bring you glory and I can’t keep pretending that I’m okay with this. I’m tired of feeling like I’m not doing enough for you and at the same time falling apart – wondering when You’ll come through and be this God that you say you are? I’m tired of seeing drops when I’ve been promised a deluge. I’m tired of having to frantically run around looking for you, looking for the good that you say you promise to us in the midst of all this bad.

If He wanted me to follow Him, then He was going to have to show me why because the only thing I had was pain, depression, sadness, fatigue, worthlessness, depression and this futile attempt to believe in a God who demanded so much more than He gave. If he wanted my total devotion then He was going to have to remove these lenses of pain through which I viewed the world and place them with lenses of divine hope.

I can’t serve a God I’m terrified of. I can’t serve a God who only brings pain – even if the supposed end is beautiful. I’m not one of those long-sufferers who can maintain themselves through hell and high water. I’m not one of those who can hold on and hold out all my life. I’m fragile. I’m frail.

And. I’m. Tired. 

In. Every. Possible. Way.

Even my body decided to give out this year.

Whatever He wanted for me this year was going to have to come from Him and Him alone. There was no strength left in me. No power to push. No ability to manipulate. No capacity to stimulate.

I was done.

In many ways, I still am.

And I stopped being able to care about so so so many things.