Do you ever have those days (or maybe weeks or longer) when the littlest things throw everything out of whack? The dumb things, the stupid things: things like paper-cuts and being cold, or things that don’t even exist but are only imaginings, fears, worries, projections. Days when all you really want to do is burst into tears or crawl in bed or eat comfort food. Days when even running and friends and the things that normally pull you out of funks don’t work. Days when you are left on your own to pull yourself out; yet, no matter what you try, nothing works. 

I hate these days. I know life is good. I know my life is good. I know great things are all around me. I know I want to be nowhere other than where I am. Yet, I have these days and I hate them. 

They are so frustrating because you can’t say that anything is wrong, because nothing is wrong. It just feels like nothing is quite right, even though you know better. I hate these days because there is no telling when they will end. Maybe it will only be half a day, maybe it will be the rest of the week. I hate these days because what I know and what feels real are two different things and I cannot reconcile them. And I especially hate these days because they make me feel so out of control. I can’t make it better. I do everything I can think of and still they stay. I feel like I am at the whim of care-less fates. 

I wonder about God on these days. I know God is here. But where? Why can’t I feel God? Why can’t I see God? I am looking. Does God give us these days? Are these days useful in some warped way? Are these days my fault? Am I doing something wrong? 

I know there is a place inside of me where everything is fine. It is a place I have worked on building – a sanctuary. It contains memories and smells and feelings that I have accumulated over the years. It is a place of peace in the deepest sense. When I can find it, everything is fine. No matter what is going on, it is fine. I know it is there. Why can’t I find it today?