My kids are still alive and my house is still standing, but other than that, I've pretty much been a failure these past several months. Like Paul in Romans 7, I have been spending my time doing what I don't care about and neglecting what I do love and desire. The internet and food has been my "soma."
There is a reason my tattoo is of a phoenix. No matter how burnt out, ashy, cold and dark I become, I always need to get up and try again. Even if I know I will just burn up and fail again. Over and over and over. It's discouraging. REALLY discouraging, lately. I struggling with thinking "what's the point?" Motivation usually gets me as far as writing a new schedule or plan and sometimes I even follow it a day or two. I have very little endurance or perseverance.
I need routines, good habits, or as it helps me (a little) to think of them: rituals. I know all about what they should be, how to create them. I dream of them, write them out, tell the kids how well our lives will go if we could just do it "this" way, and set them up like a beautiful castle of cards. A castle of cards on a rickety tv tray in a living room with 10 other people running around, pets, angry bankers, and demanding dentists breezing through the room every hour or so. Not to mention my hands shake badly.
I keep hoping there is a magic pill, book, website, fancy timer or other doodad, prayer, or plan that this time! will make me stick to it!! I haven't found one yet. I keep looking.
At this moment, though, not a great moment, not a motivated moment, not a prepared moment, but just this one right now, 7:45 am on a Monday, I'm writing in my sadly neglected blog, taking my morning supplements, and next moment I will be dressing and making my bed. That's already more than I do some days. I'm not going to sweep through the house today, making everything bright and beautiful and organized, I'm not going to do a fun craft/activity with my kids, I'm not going to finally restart my budget or write my novel. I'm going to eat breakfast, make sure my olders start school and teach my youngers some reading and math. I'm going to do my short and easy workout that barely counts as anything other than being off the couch. I'm going to go at least one full hour without being online. I'm going to light my altar candle, and pray one Jesus prayer.
I'm good at flaming up, or I used to be. Maybe that's part of getting older, having less enthusiasm for trying again. Maybe that's what I've needed all along, a slower burning spark. Maybe being charcoal is better than dryer lint. Maybe I'm not going to worry about that right now, I have no expectations of suddenly doing well regularly. I'm just going to do okay for a few moments this morning. We'll see what happens next.
(Edited to add: My life isn't bad. It isn't even particularly hard. This is just my own mental/emotional struggle. To paraphrase Jack Sparrow: My problem are not my problems. My problem is my attitude about my problems.)