I went to the Greenbelt chapel and sat in the back row for half an hour. I closed my eyes and breathed deeply. I told God to absorb all the fucking stress in my body. I imagined it lifting up into the sunlit air, like vapor, like the Holy Spirit. I imagined Joan of Arc.
Behind my eyes, in my small mind, I entertained the sounds of distant cars varooming, the chatter of mallrats, the hum of the evil CBD. I thanked God for letting me go on this far. I thanked God for whatever kindnesses I have received. I thanked God for helping me survive an abortion and an abusive relationship. God, a chance, a break.
When I opened my eyes, the world looked the same. The stress was still there. Perhaps I'm praying for the wrong things.