Sometimes I don’t have much to say. Not enough words to fill up a haiku, much less a blog. Life gets busy, my body runs on fumes and caffeine, kids scream for attention…you know the drill. Yet despite the normal grind of living, the fear never completely goes away. The enemy is always lurking, ever hissing and flinging his accusations, preying upon my darkest secrets and coldest fears. There are some battles that must be fought over and over again. That’s okay. If you’re a
You know the feeling. A cold, clenched stomach. Darkness. A pounding heart. All you want to do is hide. You beg the eyes fixed on you to disappear but they won’t. They gape and you wonder what they must think, how they must see you. You feel worthless. Exposed. I’m talking about shame. Is there a more miserable feeling? Growing up with a seizure disorder left me with plenty of fodder for times to reflect on this feeling. Most of the time I felt normal.