About 1:30AM. Hell, some people are still OUT, and I'm waking because I've been asleep for, what, close to six hours ago. My fault. I shouldn't have fallen asleep so early. In fact, I feel badly because I kind of stuck M (kind of, really) with the kids near bedtime. It's hard to comment, though, because I didn't plan on falling asleep early. I don't plan these things. I grew very tired while reading and, well, there you go. I was asleep. I sometimes think I lack a physical fortitude others have where wakefulness is concerned.

I'm not a Christian, as I think I've said before, but I'm enjoying this St. Francis biography. Allow me to transcribe a passage from page 106:

"Through their prayers the friars discovered new dimensions of life. Its events appeared quite different when viewed in the light of eternity instead of one day. They also found themselves looking at X-ray images, as it were, of their own souls and those of the people they worked with. These new perceptions might lead to unpredictable alternations of guilt and hope, or aridity and exaltation, but often culminated in a catharsis which invigorated their work and preaching."

I get that passage, I think, but not in a "eat dirt" Franciscan way, I should admit. I can feel intense joy and relief (like I did yesterday at the YMCA during basketball) and intense weight on my shoulders within a twenty-four period. I suppose I could be manic, making emotional progress, or some combination thereof.

A friend of mine said she thought I was almost out of the briars. That cheered me up.

This will not become a log of my depression.