Every year seems to play out the same.
Fall begins with a new year’s fervor, and I get some semblance of rhythm and regularity to my life. And I do very well with this. My mental (and marital) health needs structure, schedule, and routine to flourish.
Then–bam–the holidays hit and all those bulwarks against insanity fall away. And I struggle. I eat too much, stay up too late, and my spiritual disciplines become ad hoc and more random. I’m irritable.
And I have this nasty tendency to emotionally hide from others and myself as I hate the chaos that churns within me. (Merry Christmas!)
I stumble from the holiday fog and drift in a malaise for a few months–struggling to find rhythm again, trying to catch up on work I got out of the habit of doing, and straining to be the kind of human I wish to be. Or maybe just feel human at all.
It’s about this time that Ash Wednesday and Lent come around. Right when I need it most.
And it usually ends up serving as the perfect balm and reset for me to get some structure, humanity, and communion into my body once more.
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