now is slippery

I've been trying to find a construction of words that can capture and display now — what's going on, what's going to happen — but I can't. I don't really understand what's happening now. Trying to focus on it ends up with me in an anxious state of catatonia, staring here, staring there. It's living in that instant just after you wake up... that instant that seems to stretch out and separate from the previous instant, so that nothing has happened in that instant, but everything prior to that instant occurred a long time ago.

Then I fall back into doing — doing the things that must be done, and I know that the now is pushing me along. Like Peter on the waves, as long as I don't look to hard at things and try to figure out what's going on, I don't sink. There are constant things... my marriage, God. God doesn't change, but everything else changes so much that my perspective shifts and God often looks different at different times. And God has placed me where I am in every now, and it is good. God knows what I need, and he has given me the best for me.

I often wish that I could just break down and fall apart. Throw off responsibility. I want these things like a diabetic wants a Butterfinger, or an alcoholic wants a beer. It's the kind of want I'll be glad I never got.