At the end of the first session with my therapist, he wrote on a yellow sticky-note and gave it to me.  “Put this on your refrigerator.”   It said, “I’m doing the best I can.  That’s good enough.”  “Bullshit,” I said.  “I’m doing the best I can, and it’s never good enough.”  “Bullshit,” God said.  “You might as well accept it.  It’s the way it is, for now.”

What?  My best today sucks, because I don’t care enough to change anything.  I have a vision of making great strides to improve my behavior so I’m not self-defeating.  But today, I’m not taking good care of myself, and I know it.  Why would I do that?  Because I’m not ready to change.  I’m unable to do what it takes to alter my self-destructive actions and set myself free.  Isn’t that what God does for us?  Yes and no.  If I don’t cooperate, God won’t eclipse my will until I’m ready to help myself.  Today I’m thinking about treating myself better, living without blatant pain, letting myself go into the wonderful potential I know I have, but can’t claim yet.  God sits with me in my uncomfortable mess, waiting for me as long as it takes until I choose to move on.  I hope that day comes soon, but until then, I am a:

<strong>Brown Leaf Down</strong>

Clear.  Cold.  Numb.
Unable to stuff enough colored leaves
into my fallen heart
to fill the shadows with light
so I might probe my way out of here.

I’m at war with myself –
both the Good Guy and Bad,
killing the victor with guilt and pain
because what I want
is diametrically opposed
to the freedom that waits for me.

Why do I try so hard to screw things up?
What do I gain by gouging
my self-esteem into harmful behavior,
negative reinforcement of the lies
I know aren’t true?
It’s not like I have my head up my ass.
I know what I’m doing –
sabotaging success at grasping freedom
and claiming it for me.
As me.
Living out my true identity
of Precious, Honored, True
instead of treating myself like shit.

And you won’t do this for me, God.
That’s not your responsibility.
Asking for your help isn’t enough
if I don’t take your advice.

Please help me help myself to liberation.
I’m stuck in the muck
of my own making.
Make a way for me.
Take away my resistance
to love myself,
and please come looking for me.
I’m the brown leaf
down on the ground.