Doubt cannot be assuaged.
It must be allowed to satiate itself on it’s object; to work itself out.
I have had a lot on my mind. I may have said here before that depression cannot be reasoned with. Like doubt it’s presence must simply be endured, you can sleep again when it says you can. I don’t believe I have ever been under the duress of both at once in such an onerous manner. I honestly don’t feel that there’s much I can do about it. I’m just waiting it out.
***
I just read a chapter out of Chesterton’s The Everlasting Man. I feel better.
