Let Me Let Go

Dear God,

I've either been afflicted with an outpouring of irrational hormones or I am stressed.

I cry at the drop of a hat, I get crazily angry over ridiculous things, I can't seem to get enough sleep, my shoulder muscles are so tense it often hurts to turn my head and my digestive tract has gone on strike--an angry, violent strike of protest. All I have to do is think about my future (which is coming in three weeks, no make that two and a half now) and my intestines clench up. I write down what I need to do and I want to quit because I feel overwhelmed. I go over what I'm not doing and I find myself making room amongst the mess of shoes on my closet floor to curl up and hide.

When did I become so stressed, God? When did life cease to be an adventure and become a mess to straighten out? Want to hear something horrible? I heard the other day that laughter is a great way to destress. I thought back and realized I can't remember the last time I had a good belly laugh. Not just laughing, but the kind of side-aching, tears-flowing laugh that makes your stomach muscles sore.The kind that makes you hold your sides; the kind where your face hurts from holding that huge grin. You wipe away the tears of mirth and say, "Oh, I needed that." And then you break into fresh gales all over again.

When did I become so serious?

Was it around the time that I decided You were taking too long and I would take over? Or was it when I looked into the future and became scared spitless at the vast unknown? Whatever it was, I started to make my own plans. After all, Your plan was taking too long. So my Plan A didn't work out. Huh. Well, Plan B is looking kinda shaky, too, not to mention it's not the Plan A I had my heart set on.

Okay, fine. You're turn. Since I can't seem to plan right, I'm going to let You take over. But I don't see a plan in sight!! My insides are clenching as we speak, God! Has anyone ever told You that You move too slow?!

*Deep breath* Yes, God, that was me just trying to take over again. And yes, that was tiny little me telling the Creator of the sun, the planets and the stars that His timing is too slow. Oh, and you made the moon too? Right. Forgot about that one.

Obviously I need to let go of my perfect dream world, where it all works out according to my version of perfect. Because my version of perfect obviously isn't Your version of perfect. And I think You would know perfect much better than me, right?

I need to practice this letting go thing, God. Alright, pep talk time. Repeat this: God is big, I am small. He knows better than me. God is big, I am small, He knows better than me. I am big, God is small, I know better than He. No, wait...Ugh!!!!!

I'm gonna go hide in my closet now, God.