I am on vacation from work this entire week. I slept on the couch last night and woke up to find it's already Thursday. I am experiencing the type of dread that I usually save for Sunday nights. I wish I could get this week all over again.
A week is not enough time off. I don't feel good and haven't accomplished anything. Even the absence of stress is stressful. I'm packing Christmas up and wishing, above all, that I could find some peace in the new year. Things are not bad all the time. But things are threatening to be bad all the time. There are things I can't discuss online yet, problems I'm faced with every moment I'm awake, insurmountable stress that just won't go away. I want it to go away.
This year is going to be packed with change. Aren't they all? Except this time I can see some of it coming. My parents are retired and moving out of state. I just spent my last Christmas in my hometown. I always knew this day would come but I thought I had more time. I don't like being reminded of time. There is rarely enough of it.
A few years ago I walked into the church that my mother forced me to join after taking me away from the youth group I'd been involved with my entire life. I hadn’t stepped into the place since the day I made my confirmation nearly ten years prior. The cheesy posters children had drawn with marker had been replaced by large, high res photos of people getting more satisfaction out of praying than I’ve gotten out of anything in my life. The coat rack is gone, the bathroom sinks are different and the pastor has gotten gastric bypass surgery. I don't go to church anymore because I'd rather sleep in on Sundays and I don't believe in the divinity of Jesus. I also watched the church ruin the lives of people I was once close to, and when I looked deeper, saw that it had ruined me as well. I wish I could get those years back.
I'm turning 30 in 2016 and I still feel 15. Half my life ago. And I'm already complaining about time.