Blathering, battling, biffing

Pardon me as I have to sweep my eyelids off the keyboard so I can type. Exhaustion has not only taken up residence, but has pulled off a coup.

Another episode of drugs gone bad; sans hospital.

Having been through this, what? Two weeks ago? I knew immediately what was happening. I woke up feeling WRONG and in a downward spiral. After a phone call to my friend Mair, and a call to the nurse, I took action and felt better. Just need to quarter the pills and step down from there. My brain won't let go of the Effexor.

Oh how I wish I never met that stuff!

Drugs gone bad does bad things to the bod. Hence, my lethargy. My lack of getting anything done today (writing wise). Mair says I must accept my mess. I'm only human. I need to extend the same grace to myself that Jesus extended to me long ago and continues to extend.

Do you know how hard that is for a driven, perfectionistic, accomplishment freak?

And it's not over.

I had an out of body experience and auditioned for worship team. My goal was to face fear, and make it through the torture chamber dreaded by musicians across the globe w/o melting down. In my opinion, considering my goal, I think I did quite well.

But...

I have to call Ryan (worship dude) tomorrow AM to find out my fate. I'm steeling myself up for another rejection.

My friends Susie and Kendall both received invitations in the mail today. I opted for a personal response. Now I'm thinking I'd rather not know. Silence = rejection= I can pretend it never happened and not be disappointed - AGAIN.

Being on the worship team is nowhere near important to me as it was last year. I held onto it too tight. I'm taking voice lessons and will continue to do so regardless. I have other groups interested in my talent. But it will still suck. I'll be sad. I can't pretend I'm not.

I wasn't going to put myself through this, but I did. I need to put it all behind - especially if I'm rejected again. I faced my fear. The audition thing is done for me. Especially in a church setting where called, capeable, committed people should be allowed to use their gifts to minister. Ryan and I hashed it out. We're cool. That's a victory as well.

Back to the grace thing. HOW???

All I know is how to beat myself up.

Mair (pronounced like 'fire') told me that God is using my depression to strip me down to the Real Darcie. I'm so poor in spirit, wounded, bruised - there's now way on this earth or in hell for that matter how I could take credit for anything. Any success in this state is a God thing.

I'm a mess.

Every second, my mind wrestles with the fact I'm a mess but don't want to be. Why put up a facade anymore when I think any soul in Colorado would have to be dead to not notice I'm a mess.

Duhhhhpresion. It sucks. Big time, but Jesus is bigger. He doesn't smash his heel down on bruised reeds.