herlucidlife

Woke up irritated at the little snide remarks people make that could really be left in the trash. Never helpful, mind reeling counting down the minutes till it’s departure time…I just got to work three minutes ago. Cold caressing my skin creating goosebumps, some speak as though expertise has landed them in a higher playing field than everyone else while their crap still smells like manure. Rubbing elbows with folks who spew trivial comments, looking at an email that was barely legible from all the backhanded wording, true helpful hands only house humility.  Unnecessary, uncalled for simply because things are handled not to your liking. Humbling myself, completing labor while holding the tongue. Unnerved at how I allow others at the workplace to rile my feathers. 

Giving the illusion that having control over one’s emotions is relative. Unwell, squirming in my skin, unplanted feet barely balanced…I haven’t fallen yet. Once again the weed is gone, I just re-upped two days ago. Always less than what I think, my mind plays ugly tricks making supplies seem more fruitful than reality. Monthly chores due, bi-weekly payment dropping on the weekend, just enough for my herbal fix. Never pictured a more perfect scenario for my weed addiction than spending bill money on Mary Jane. Rolling down the street, tipping into “wrong place, wrong time.” I look for divine covering more than ever. Consumed, obsessed with quitting, blocking the door to finishing. No stopping in sight, falling weaker quicker than before. Lethargic, stuck, moving by muscle memory. The mind oozes a little after every hard decision…to purchase? To not purchase? 

Unfavorable, irresponsible, dreadful even. Speaking to God is hard when sin is causing the tongue to choke. Fearful on the road, the last couple runs have been nerve wracking having seen a deadly crash several feet in front of my windshield. Weeks ago, covered to not have been hit, I thank God. Hands on my body, knowing the Word…Do you believe me when I say “I’m sick in the head?” I may have stopped believing in myself, what makes God grant me trust? Is He more than Love? But nothing is more than He. No excuses, not doing so well at proving myself to Me. Smoke inhabits a shelf life so unspeakably short in my household it’s baffling. No longer enjoyable, I feel my spirit mourning the excitement of my flesh. 

Detached far from jaded, I thought about it. I toiled over the thought of spending bill money for you. I allowed the devil to win and it hurts so bad. Telling myself no, something wins over faith every single time. Admittedly, I’m ashamed because I didn’t have to but wanted to. Romanticizing sin like vows on a beach, force feeding feces down the throat hoping it tastes like honey. I got food like leaving God’s presence is a celebration, floating on every cloud eight. My favorite Salvadorian cuisine waiting in the microwave. I had to inhale before eating, enhancing the hunger pain already in my stomach. Taking the edge off from the drive regaining the high I may have lost from the pickup travel, hitting two birds with one stone. Skipping Bible study for two months, getting a little too comfortable intaking the Word once a week. 

Unfocused, unguarded, walking around as if Satan isn’t using every bone to kill me. Falling not even trying to pick myself up. Blatant, on purpose…Hi I’m Naje, a recovering sinner. Sponsored by my Heavenly Father, He’s calling me to the next meeting…Jesus I confess I need help picking up the phone.