I thought I had been upended, that all that was familiar was gone. I thought I would be left with mere glimpses of her—the self that guided me through identity, who taught me who I am, what I believed, what it takes to survive. But she hasn’t left. She is still here, a stubborn wraith who believes she knows what is best. I don’t know how to love her. Oh, how she has hurt me.

I am turned inward, my new self and my old engaging in a battle tireless and unending. The old rising up to bully the new: Who are you? How can you be relied upon to get us through? You don’t look at all strong. What, even is your name?

I am mute. (The old self does this to me every time.) And the new self, young and tender and vulnerable, has already forgotten she is beautiful, she is strong, she is perfectly, so perfectly, brand new.

So, here, with words, I try to find her. (I must do what I know.) And I vow to love her, as she deserves. Only because He loves her. Only because He loves.

The words are air. I didn’t know I needed them like I did. Gulping breaths. Into mind and heart. Space too full. Noise. Noise. Noise.

The noise of a mind unsettled. The noise of hopping around—thinking that completing one task and then another will do the settling. But all that happens is discontentedness. I am not present for….what?

So many things.

Be attentive to what is happening in you, not just around you. But yes, be attentive to what is happening around you and how that affects what is in you.

Honor your mind. Honor your heart. Honor the holiness of this day by being attentive. Eyes and ears. Breath. These fingers, these hands.

I read an article. An entire article. But I do it while standing in the kitchen, leaning over the counter like I do.

I seldom sit—so often I am caught between one thought and another, one task and another. I resist being caught up in one activity, choosing, rather, to do many things at once, in a stop-and-start fashion. Not exactly frenetic.

But.

I am not at peace.

For I am not really even here.