Two things that quiet the monster.

June 1, 2017
Day 244

I love glorious mornings. This morning was cool, the grass was full of dew, and the birds were singing just because it was the morning. I think it's a lovely way to start a new day. With singing just because.

When Higbee is tired, his ears droop down low on the side of his head, and he looks like Yoda. I love to kiss his face when he has his Yoda ears. Also, he closes his eyes when I kiss his face. That means he loves me. Fact.

The sunset was amazing tonight. There is this one spot in Gainesville at the very top of an overpass where I like to drive during the sunset. It has the best view because there is nothing to block it. I love places where I can see the wide open sky.

I've been reading, Out of the Silent Planet, by C.S. Lewis. I adore C.S. Lewis. His words are beautiful. Last night, I came across these words in his book: "At that moment, he was unconscious of everything except his fear. He did not even know what he was afraid of: the fear itself possessed his whole mind, a formless, infinite misgiving." I know this formless monster. I know the feeling of not feeling anything else at all except for fear. And it's terrifying. Lewis writes on: "He did not lose consciousness, though he greatly wished that he might do so. Any change--death or sleep, or, best of all, a waking which would show all this for a dream--would have been inexpressibly welcome. None came." I've wished for an "any change." I've been there. And it's a torturous hell. Distractions don't silence it. Alcohol doesn't silence it. Cigarettes don't silence it. Even my endless supply of xanax didn't silence it.  I have found only two things that will quiet this monster for me. Writing every day about what I'm thankful for. And God.

Thankful.