The Pressure Valve

Apparently I’m at the end.
the end of the rope, the end of the line, the end of my wits, whatever it is, I’m at the end.

Were there warning signs? I must have missed them.

I felt the setup and I took the bait, I fed into it.

It’s like a drug this way of feeling, this ego that tells you that you’re right and you know best. The ego trip that reminds you that you’re in charge and get to do whatever you want.

I like the high, it feels good to be on top, but it’s not all it’s cracked up to be.   Because the fall is so hard. The crash, an explosion right around the corner, waiting like a land mine. Surely there were signs?

How did I miss them, but there I go, walked right into, lured there by the part of me that needs attention, that screams to be right, that aches to be on top.  And BOOM!

I had no reason to stay, I wasn’t needed, and now I’ve gone and exploded over everything.

And now the tears, and the begging for forgiveness, and the shame.  Because I know better, I really do, and even though everyone’s been at the end, in these moments, it feels so lonely.

O death, where is your sting, where is your victory?  It’s here in these moments, these moments of explosion, of sadness, of longing for forgiveness. And it will only be through the workings of the grace of God that I will forgive and be forgiven.  It will only be through the resurrection of my soul that I will be able to pick up the pieces and move on.

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