Today is one of those days that’s not. The rain has refused to stop falling, I need to take out my braids, and my neck hurts from staring at my computer screen for extended periods.
And I have a mountain of work to get done. By no one else’s fault but mine, I have to work like a donkey these last two weeks of school. Life suddenly seems real. Everything I’ve worked on these past four years could come crashing down if I don’t pull my weight this semester.
I had an interesting dream also. There was a food truck somewhere on my college campus. I went by to see what was happening and I met my church pastor. After a little conversation, he placed his hands on my back and said: “I bind every spirit of anxiety and worry…” and something else. I looked at him, wondering how he knew that I was anxious as hell and worried about everything from my thesis, my final papers, to my graduation (Will I be able to purchase and wear a dress I like? What will I remember my graduation day as? Who will appear in my pictures? Will I have pictures of my own, since my phone isn’t working?). There’s a plethora of things to get done and things to think about.
But alas, I am reminded of the futility of worry. Since I became increasingly worried about inconsequential and sometimes legit things, nothing has fixed itself. I still have my short stories to complete, I still have to complete my interview for a piece I’m writing for my Magazine Writing class, I still have to sit and stare at a computer screen and conjure actual words.
If there’s one thing that worry does do though, it’s that it makes me more miserable. I get worried about what I haven’t done, then I’m worried that time is running out, then I’m worried that I’m worried (Why? Am I not growing in my faith? Have I forgotten who my God is? Has He not brought me through stress in the past?)
And then it’s yet another day and not one ounce of work is done. Everything remains the same but I’m more miserable than I was the day before.
Some days I’m happy and joyful, other days I’m dead worried.
The happy days are the better days. So why can I not work towards as many happy and joyful days as possible?
“I do not understand what I do. For what I want to do I do not do, but what I hate I do. And if I do what I do not want to do, I agree that the law is good. As it is, it is no longer I myself who do it, but it is sin living in me. For I know that good itself does not dwell in me, that is, in my sinful nature. For I have the desire to do what is good, but I cannot carry it out. For I do not do the good I want to do, but the evil I do not want to do—this I keep on doing. Now if I do what I do not want to do, it is no longer I who do it, but it is sin living in me that does it.”
I guess I’m in good company. Also, I have the Holy Spirit. My default prayer has become: “Help me, Lord.”