This is what I feel like doing:
Taking my inside, folding it up, putting it in a box, and kicking it under my bed. Buh-bye! O wait, I kinda already did that. Too late.
Another analogy: shutting myself off. A big, fat, heavy light switch - turn it off with a loud, satisfying clunk. Or loud, echoing clunk. Take your pick.
And yet. Someone gave me a word a few weeks ago, which was, "It's time to unpack your runaway bag." I thought I did that. [Didn't feel like it had lasting fruit....but that's not for me to decide.] Guess I have to do it again.
I guess I have a chronic problem with packing up everything (in boxes, in runaway bags)....it's a theme. Gonna have to deal with that. I just don't like to see the insides of those boxes/bags/me. Hurts too much, especially when I try to sort it out and it doesn't sort the way I think it should. I guess I should let God do the sorting.
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