I’m never home. I stay out late. With people, or alone. Either is fine as long as I’m not home, in my own room with my own thoughts for too long.
I listen to music. Always.
Something with sound waves. Anything with sound waves.
I frequent cafes for work and friends homes and new restaurants and theaters and church and–
If you sit still long enough–
I surf the web and respond to emails and create to do lists in my head that never go away when I lay down to sleep because anxiety drowns me, holding me captive whenever I want to relax. Good sleep might as well be a dream because it’s now just a figment of my imagination.
If you just learn how to be still.
When I can’t sleep Netflix provides temporary comfort. No social effort required from my end, making an introverted life easy to live but not easy to accept. I should get out of bed I think to myself. But I don’t.
If you would just–
I fidget a lot when I have to sit still. My thoughts make me uncomfortable because in the silence God finds me, asking me the hard questions that I refuse to acknowledge because sometimes change hurts and not changing is easier.
If you would just listen–
But in the silence when He finds me is also the most comforting. In a still, small voice He whispers, I am with you always. And in an instant the fears that have pulled me under go away, and the clouds of chaos and confusion vanish in His presence. In the silence I find peace and despite the absolute craziness in the world I find hope. A real hope that can’t be manufactured or produced, only found.