This Time Every Year I Get Like This

I remember an ex-friend with whom I would occasionally each lunch.  On one such occasion I noted his salad eating habits.  He would just stab the plate randomly until he got enough on his fork.  I, on the other hand, would deliberately aim for the leaves followed by some vegetable or chunk of fruit, to hold the leaves on my fork.  I tried his way  a few times and found it largely effective.

I feel like this is how I am trying to get back into my church, I am just stabbing around a lot without much planning.  Not to say that I never did.  Many times I would put schedules together.  I would even plot out targets for SMSP  (Study Meetings Service & Prayer) but to no avail in every case.  Now I feel like and stabbing around with the same efficacy.

Yes I go to meetings, but I am bored to tears there.  I study sometimes and, promises to the contrary notwithstanding, I am still bored.

However I have learned that someway somehow, it is all my fault.  I can't blame God for this, I am the one at fault.  Even if it is because I myself, haven't followed the advice & rules such that I am not there to do a better job.  It is just powerfully frustrating to be relegated to sitting in meetings, for which you know you must be present, and to sit like a bad child in an environment that I find so utterly lacking in intellectual stimulation.  I don't feel "too good" to be there.

Part of it is that the meetings are designed for participation.  If you aren't engaged in the group discussion, it becomes much more uninteresting.  If you are mentally planning to say something, it is an entirely different experience.  As I mentioned before I was released from the restriction not to do so when I lied and told them I an not watching nrop anymore.   So I decided that I still won't comment until a year after the last time I intentionally watch nrop.  So I have 11 months and 2 weeks to go (presuming I don't screw up again.)

And the feelings of loss, abandonment, depression wash over me with force that knocks the breath from my lungs and suffocates my soul.  Like a heavy and damp net it frustrates every movement and incites despair and resignation to defeat.  I truly hate what I have become.  There is no way out of this unless and until God decides to show mercy, or perhaps until I take advantage of the mercy he has continually shown.