Cool Water

The beautiful inside and out Elizabeth Esther has blessed us with another of her wondrously honest posts:

But Crisis Mode is my default setting. It’s where my mind goes when I think I’m starting to see emerging patterns of rejection/impending doom/getting left behind at the Rapture. Heh.

 

The problem is that our bodies aren’t meant to live in Crisis Mode. For one thing, it’s exhausting. After the flurry of crisis comes the crash of depression.

 

So, that’s where I’m at right now. The Crisis Mode has dwindled away. I feel safe again. I’m just….sad.

 

You know, it’s extremely difficult for me to write about this because I still feel twinges of mortification like: if I were a “real” Christian, I wouldn’t have these problems.

 

The thing is, I’m fully functional. I’m able to take care of my children and my obligations. I’m even able to “keep a happy face.” This little funk isn’t entirely debilitating. It just feels like recurring beads of sadness running through the necklace of my days.

 

And by the end of each day I’m very, very, very tired.

Some thoughts on the last line quoted.

As is no doubt obvious to all — at least it is to me — I’ve been in a deep writing funk for the past several months. It’s most noticeable at my NASCAR blog, which I seldom if ever bother to blow the dust off of long enough to say anything. I haven’t written a word as the Oakland Evangelical Examiner since January, and as far as being the Motorsports Examiner it is far more miss than hit. The new book is stuck in neutral. I’ve been sputtering here as well.

Why?

I’m not altogether certain.

There are assorted elements that no doubt factor into this compositional malaise. The issues with my right hand that started back in February often rear their ugly head. Also, it’s becoming increasingly difficult for me to focus while writing. This manifests itself in non-stop childish spelling and other errors occurring in droves unless I slow down to a snail’s pace while typing. Related to this is how while topics upon which to write constantly rumble through my mind, seldom do I have sufficient motivation to sit down and do the work necessary for setting these notions down in concrete form. Finally, there’s the perhaps somewhat selfish part of all this, namely how I’ve been spending a lot of time in the evenings the past few months that previously would have been devoted to writing instead playing guitar.

And yes, there’s my oft-chronicled bouts of depression sapping creative energy.

Long story short, I’m in a writing slump. And I don’t know when I’ll be breaking out.

Hopefully, when I do I’ll be writing with the open honesty demonstrated by Elizabeth Esther and other fine writers, who bravely bare their souls in the hope it will help others going through similar trials.

After all, our God is a God of efficiency.

What would be the point of going through dry spells such as this unless it is for a clear purpose, such as greater empathy for my brothers and sisters in Christ?

Such as learning how to trust and rely in Christ alone, when I fail me?

Such as renewing my appreciation for such modest gifts as I have been given to communicate?

Such as entering full understanding of what a blessing it will be when I once again taste cool water?

I look forward to that day.

P.S. My Dad loved these songs.