Microcosm

"You know what your problem is?"
She asked me
In that knowing way
That reveals me.
"You can't let anything go."
It is one of the traits
I loathe about myself,
Played out 
In the microcosm of the office,
And the macrocosm of life. 
The dwelling and brooding
Are so loud,
So consuming sometimes,
That I nearly drown
In their wake. 
I disintegrated slightly
In my boss' office
As she tried to make sense of
What was unraveling me. 
I left, feeling foolish and tongue-tied,
Having allowed ridiculous emotions
Over inconsequential nonsense
To master me again. 
I am Switchfoot's "Mess of Me" embodied -
Stressed out,
Strapped,
Overwhelmed,
And sleep-deprived. 
I could only shake my head
And walk away,
Leaving her to wonder
What was eating at me. 
As I said goodnight,
I am not sure if it was disgust I saw
Written on her face. 
Disgust in my weakness? 
My cracking?
My inability to pull myself 
Out of the hole I place myself into?

Today, 
She tells me
That it has been one time too many
That I have left her office
Making her look like 
The bad guy
Over nothing. 
She tells me
She is going to pull back,
Away from me,
And I feel her noninvolvement with me
Like a blight all day. 

O Lord,
The absence of her
Burns worse than the scrutiny
I am so fearful of encountering.
I did not mean to offend,
But I have done it regardless.  
Help her understand 
That I am my own rock of offense,
My own stumbling stone.

Lord...
You and I know
That You use the Aussie
To speak words to me
For my spiritual edification. 
If this is an analogy
Of life with You
Versus life without You...
I submit to Your scrutiny,
Your teaching. 
Give me correction and Presence
Because Your Absence
Isn't something I can bear!