The further I descend into sleep deprivation and the more time that passes without a diagnosis for my sleep disorder, the more I believe that I have done all of this to myself.
I could blame my Christian upbringing and the dogma which places the blame totally on the individual. I could blame my assault. I could blame my concussions. I could blame a mental illness. I could blame Joe. I could blame my mom.
But I blame myself. It’s a deep, quiet, sure conviction that I am deserving of all this pain and exhaustion, that somehow my past trangressions, my current failures, my future crimes are all living and embodied right here in this immediate and fleeting Self. And I am reaping the punishment tenfold.
I’ve lied, stolen, cheated, offended, slacked off, walked away, mis-managed, been greedy, overeaten, lusted, harmed, given up, given in, said too little, said too much, over-committed, been a coward, been egocentric, been cocky, haven’t paid bills, and I keep doing all these things.
And I am imperfect, as are we all. But perhaps I am even more imperfect than average. Is this my karma?
