You are no friend of mine.
I drift so easily towards you. You open your arms so enticingly and I walk right into your trap. I can't get out of your embrace easily, so I hang out there. And you're so cunning and you whisper lies to me, that I don't need anyone and that I'm just fine there. Oh isolation, you are dangerous and you fill me with a combination of burden and numbness. You feed pride and you feed confusion.
You cloud what's real and not real. In your presence, I'm terrified.
I gorge on Netflix. I avoid all people. I disengage because I think this season will be easier to walk through alone. Isolation, you make life ten times harder and joy ten times harder to find. You're a choice I make, and yet you seem to be a choice I can't make.
But the good news is that vulnerability is your biggest nemesis and verbal processing just happens to be one of my best tools to fight.
So, I'll put my armor on. Day by day, each new morning.
Guarding my mind with the sword of the Spirit, the Word of God.
And prayer, yes prayer.
So hear me friends, as I struggle to face isolation and the unknown and the meantime by myself, there are people in your corner who are dying to fight with you. They're dying for you to come back to the corner, sit on the stool for rest, get some water, wipe your brow, get you ready for round two (or three or four or ten)
They're dying to get in the ring with you, take a few shots for you.
Let them in.
You don't have to have it all figured out. And you don't have to have it all figured out alone.
But start unraveling the mess in your mind by starting somewhere. One step.