How do I love me? Let me count the ways.
With Apologies to Elizabeth Barrett Browning, 1806 – 1861
For some while I have lived in deep depression and apathy and might, if I cared to, count my blessings on one digit. There is no brightness in my life as though the sun has ceased to shine on the brightest of days. I am deeply afraid, and I cannot seem to pray as from my heart because I doubt the Lord will answer my prayers even if I were to pray them. So, I escape whatever disappointment coming my way by answering my unspoken prayers, in the negative. If I expect nothing I can only be surprised if something were to arrive.
Out of the depths I cry to you O Lord except I do not cry, and the very depths clog my ribcage like some unexploded bomb. I shall be smithereens! Before I bend my neck to pray, to ask forgiveness for avoiding You, I shall annihilate your good creation.
Lord, take not your Holy Spirit from me, if she lives in me at all, please don’t take her away, it confuses me, this Trinity and I fear to pray because I might get it wrong. No! That is my excuse, it matters not to whom I cry because any on of three will do.
My other self-craves to fall upon my knees in shame, how do I help others when I cannot help myself? The romance of me the other me, needs out because the Masque of me must be removed and I must be, as I am meant to be.
And so, I say to myself: Ask, and I will receive; seek, and I will find; knock, and the door will be opened to me. (Luke 11:9 GNB)