Black Hole Living

Sometimes it seems miles away from me and other times I am teetering on the edge peering down into the darkness.  And then there are the times it swallows me up, almost without my noticing until I am in a free fall like Alice tumbling down the rabbit hole to Wonderland.  Except I don't land in Wonderland, I land at the bottom of a black hole.
I lay there, looking up and searching for the pinpoint of light that I need to claw my way up to.  My black hole changes depths, sometimes it is deep and others times it is relatively shallow. Laying at the bottom I feel defeated, depleted, despairing. Wrapping energy around these emotions takes work and until I do I won't be able to claw out of this hole.  So I lay there and I work to get enough energy to begin the upward journey. Eventually I begin to claw my way up.  It feels like one step forward and two steps backward at times. Sometimes I reach the top only to slip back down again.  And then there are the times that I reach the top and I grip the edge with my fingertips and I begin the painstaking process of pulling myself up and out of that hole once again. Should I succeed, or rather when I succeed, it takes some recovery time before I can safely move away from the edge of the hole.
I lay there, so aware of how one little shift would send me tumbling down the hole again, panting and trying to catch my breath.  I inch away from the edge, my energy depleted by the claw-climb out of the hole.  The further I inch away the stronger I become.  Eventually I can get to my hands and knees and move a little faster, always seeking to put distance between myself and the black hole. At some point I know I will be able to get to my feet and walk and then even perhaps run to lengthen the distance.  The further I can get away from it the longer it will take for another encounter.  Because the reality is I am going to have another encounter.  The black hole didn't even exist until a few years ago but now it is here to stay, making its presence known.  Now it is a reality in my life, it is a struggle I encounter, it is a tool of humility.
It isolates me even as truth within me whispers its warnings against isolation.  It numbs me to relationships.  It sucks all physical and emotional energy out of me.  But it no longer perplexes me.  It no longer deceives me into masking what it really is.  I know what it will take to claw-climb out of it.  In some ways I can even determine its depth.  And some days, while in the claw-climb of the black hole, I am even able to laugh and smile and people think I am enjoying life.  I'm good in public, I can almost make the black hole disappear. But see me alone and then you see what kind of life I'm living in the black hole.  Try to interact with me in person or virtually and you will get delayed responses, if you get them at all.  Try to catch my eye and hold eye contact, I'll look away after about 1 second but not before you catch the weariness.  Listen to what I say and you'll hear about my low-energy levels.  Observe me from a distance and you'll see me deeply sigh, blink, and try to motivate myself to do something productive.  Yes, once you know what to look for you will know if I've been sucked in to another black hole or if I am trying to claw-climb my way out of one.
But life in the black hole has had one surprising gift.  It has been, and continues to be, one of perspective.  I have an expanded perspective on God's grace, God's people, and God's love.  So for all the weight that black hole living brings to me, both figuratively and literally, there's a bright pinpoint of light always guiding me.