Daily Bread
2026-02-09
I skipped Divine Liturgy yesterday because, when I woke up, I was too tired to get ready and decided to fall back asleep until noon. Over the last several days, I've been sleeping rougher—waking up several times throughout the night, unsettling dreams—the usual. On top of that, I still haven't picked myself back up after relapsing into masturbation and pornography. Even further, I've been neglecting my prayer rule and nighttime hygiene routine. Altogether, I feel like I'm slipping.
I don't like the loss of control.
It's strange; I have this implicit assumption that as long as I adhere to a strict routine and check all my boxes every day, my consistency will contribute to an overall sense of restoration. However, I've noticed that this adherence isn't, well, very adherent. More than likely, it has to do with the fact that I don't really give myself "days off."
The thing is, my life isn't a particularly arduous one. I don't work a demanding job. I get to go to a nice and expensive gym most days of the week. I have many creature comforts that make my life significantly easier. So for me, doing the things I feel the need to—writing here, going to the gym, basic self-care, prayer—shouldn't be something that requires time off. Every day feels like a day off and a day "on."
I don't have many obligations. I don't have clients to please, meetings to attend, or managers to assuage. For me, I am in the business of taking care of myself, getting closer to God, and writing for all of you who choose to read here every day. With that, I don't have any worldly obligations. I am fortunate enough to have been born into a family that can keep the bills paid while I focus on this little project of mine. I know how blessed I am, but even then, I still feel that I'm struggling to "keep up," as it were.
I don't mean that I feel behind socioeconomically, either. I couldn't care less about that. My metrics are different. I want to feel successful in my relationships. I want to feel like I'm using my creative talents for good. I've worked physically taxing jobs before; they give no true sense of fulfillment. I don't want to keep score of my life based on how much money I make or who I know or whatever else. I want to surround myself with humble and honest folk and to feel like I'm making a significant difference in the lives of a few as opposed to a small difference in the lives of many.
I am just one person. I am ordinary.
Still, there are many instances where I nag at myself. That nagging directly opposes my fatigue. Even in moments of total mental and physical exhaustion, there is still that small voice nagging at me and telling me that there's more I ought to be doing. I've had a bad habit of fluctuating between different projects and never really finding a place for them. The novelty of starting a new thing is intoxicating, but through this project I've come to understand the necessity and importance of tedium.
Even when it feels like there's nothing I have to say, my mind keeps going anyway.
There's a lot that I wish I had. I wish I was financially independent. I wish I could more directly see the impact of my work. I wish I could make a living doing this. More than anything, I wish that I was content with what I have. This longing that I feel for something more—I understand that it's something we all experience. But for me, that "more" isn't found in conventional places. If anything, that "more" is a desire for internal mastery; I want this so I can get closer to God. I want my life to remain examined, to seek greater self-understanding. I know that all of this is only possible because I don't have to worry about the basics. Food, water, and shelter are always accounted for.
Every day, I receive my daily bread.
All I hope for now is to be delivered from the evil one.
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