Crooked Finger (crookedfingers) wrote,
Crooked Finger

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a broken jar

It is 10:33 AM Tuesday morning in the flow. I am not really flowing this morning. I feel clogged inside. I am wasted. I slept poorly last night. I feel crippled this morning. I am down in the lower level trying to not lay down in the dark. It is like I have been forcing myself to keep going since my wife has been gone and all of sudden I am out of fuel. I can't go any longer. I am without strength. It is scary feeling this way. What am I going to do? It is going to come down to a sheer force of the will to move, to keep going. When I was working I forced myself for years to move my body when all I wanted to do is just lay down and die. Those years I worked was for me a state of pure horror. I am so glad now I can stay home and pray for saving grace.

Carol has not called this morning. She told me last night over the phone they were suppose to be at the hospital early and she would call me there.

I have had a rough morning. I tossed and turned all night. I got out of bed around 7 o'clock AM this morning. I let Rudy out of his crate and made a pot of coffee. Next I messed with our main computer and then I wrote in my paper diary.

I have been wandering the house in a state of exhaustion. I came down here to lay down in the dark wondering how I am going to get Carol tomorrow when the weather is going to be terrible. Carol is going to have to take a cab home tomorrow when she lands in Grand Rapids Airport. I told Carol I could drive to Grand Rapids today get a hotel room and then Wednesday drive over to the airport and pick her up. Carol could drive us home in Wednesday's severe thunderstorm rain pouring possible flooding and a tornado. Carol said No she could take a cab home. All I want is safety and nerves of steel, but instead I am a ball of anxiety-fear-dread-empty exhaustion-freaked-a man of little faith-a broken vessel.

I have been carrying around to read this morning a book titled, "On Contemplating God, Prayer, & Meditations" by William of St Thierry.

Last night I read "Flaubert" a biography by Bart and watched some professional football. I went to bed early. Now I am down in the lower level writing on my old lap top computer feeling wasted-no energy-dead but filled with dread. I am so glad I am not in the American work force in this physical, intellectual and spiritual condition right now. I admire people who work in a world that is absolutely meaningless.

Well I suppose I will close to wait it out. No way of escape.

old diary entry glorycloud

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