Back to Norm.

I am happy to report I said a prayer. It wasn't good by any means. I was about to make my way out the front door for my first day back to work and basically my first appearance back into civilization. I didn't sleep the entire night before. I had an emotional break down or two that day (Sunday). And found myself in bed for the night with shortness of breath and a pounding heart. Doctor Mason diagnosed this as a panic attack and sweetly prayed for me over the phone. I took an herbal sleep supplement and it did it's job. I knocked out around 8:30 for the night. I woke up from a dead sleep thinking, surely it was 7:00 am and my alarm would be going off soon, but not quite. It was not even 10 pm. With roughly an hour and a half nap I was determined to give the full night's rest one more shot. Unfortunately my night would play out pretty much the same frustrating way it had started... waking up every hour or two until the anger built so much so that I couldn't even go back to sleep anymore. I threw the towel in sometime around the wee morning hours accepting the fact that not only would today be emotionally hard, now I would also have the privilege of being beyond exhausted.

I unlocked the door and took one step out. The anxiety was so strong and the sun so bright that I stepped back in and shut the door. I hadn't formally talked to God at this point and I figured now was as good of a time as any. Though, it wasn't poetic or beautiful by any means. I stood there with my head up against the cold metal (or whatever it is made out of) door and my eyes closed. I stood there for several minutes just repeating, 'I don't know what to say, I don't know what to say'. Eventually I squeaked out a 'I need You, please be with me today even though I've been angry with You and avoided You and don't deserve Your grace'.

Back-to-work-Monday was surprisingly huge in my recovery process. Thankful my coworkers were gracious and didn't acknowledge the ginormous elephant in my office with me the whole day. They did however tell me a bunch of sweet things, like how pretty I looked and how much they missed me. I was brutally honest that I had not missed them and was currently plotting in my head how to never work again. But, all jokes aside... I survived. As the new norm, God poured His grace on me that day even though I so so didn't deserve it.

I'd say the previous week I was operating at about 30%. I was a bipolar mess. After my 8 hour shift on Monday, I felt about 80%. Life was still marching on.

I have been steadfast with my Bible time. Last night he told me, "without faith it is impossible to please God, because anyone who comes to him must believe that he exists and that he rewards those who earnestly seek him". Hebrews 11:6. I remembered that God really does want good things for my life. Maybe not the same good things I want or expect, but I have been acting as if he is a cruel God who just wanted to hurt me and break my heart. I see now, that the end result of what happened was a Jen who earnestly seeks God. That is all about His glory, not my hurt. And shockingly despite of that, He wants to bless me? Why on earth? It makes no sense.

And as always, I end my days not comprehending His grace and thanking Him for His faithfulness. Tonight, I'm praying for the hurt to go away, but hoping these lessons never leave me.