the eye of the storm

My heart is a storm.

Dark and raging, swirling, battered by unrelenting waves that pound against my identity every second of every day .

Spinning, struggling, striving and confusion reign as the strong winds catch me once weakness sets in. Unprepared for the blow the gusts snatch me off my feet and now I am one with the storm. Tired of fighting, I give in to the swirling and let myself be carried away.

And then for a moment, all is quiet.

From a birds-eye view I see an image of myself in the eye of the storm, hunkered down. Knowing the storm is raging around me, yet I am at peace, I am calm.

The moment passes and the roar of the wind becomes deafening. The tightness in my chest grows larger as I wonder how I got stuck in the storm with no direction out. I am empty. I have nothing left to give since I have spent everything fighting the storm, fighting to regain control.

Be still, and I will fight for you, I hear.

I don’t have time for that, I say. Not today. Not really. You are not what I need right now. I can take care of it.

Notice the lilies, I hear. How they grow, yet they do not toil or spin. Are you not more valuable than they? Will I not clothe you with more beauty than they?

I am spinning because I have lost control. Yet, the truth is that I was never in control to begin with.

The tides are shifting. I can feel it. I can slowly see the winds change. I don’t know where the wind is blowing, and the unknown scares me. I have been spinning trying to chase the wind. I’ve been trying to chase it, and catch it, and bottle it up and point it only in the direction that I know and trust and makes sense.

Drenched and battered, exhausted, I crawled to the eye again this morning. I knew I couldn’t survive much longer like this; the waves in my heart and soul, on the verge of exploding and taking down every one in their path.

Do not be anxious, I heard. For who by worrying can add one hour to his life?

This time I listened. I confessed. I repented. And slowly my white-knuckle grip on control began to loosen. As it did, a gentle wind passed over me, chilling my cheeks and ruffling my hair as it gently stripped control from my fingers.

This time, I let it go without a fight.

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