Position Accepted

I’m trying to stabilize while life keeps applying small amounts of pressure. Not catastrophe. Not collapse. Just friction. Interruptions. Urgency. Responsibility. Enough to keep the nervous system alert. Stabilizing isn’t dramatic. It’s choosing not to spiral when the pressure shows up.

February 20, 2026.

I planned on driving 45 minutes to purchase a cot mattress.

I headed into Beeville with good company to pick up a cot I had found on Facebook Marketplace.

We started with a light breakfast.

Two quesadillas.
Two 32oz sandia agua frescas.

Refreshing.

The first one came with cubed ice like it normally does. I decided I wanted another, but with the ice blended — slush consistency.

The waitress looked at me like bugs were crawling out of my facial orifices and said, “I don’t think that will come out right.”

I told her, “Trust me. I do it all the time at home. It works.”

And it did.

She looked a little defeated afterward.

That's on her.

So onward with the trip to purchase the item I found. I only went because it looked decent in the pics, it was $10, and everywhere else near me wanted an arm and two legs. The cheapest small mattresses I could find on Marketplace were crib mattresses, and I know what kind of funk can spew and fester from tiny barely born humans, so I opted out of that choice.

I made it to Beeville with urgency. I had to go. The seller was waiting in the Walgreens parking lot as arranged, but I had to bypass. My bladder said now. I rushed and exploded. Thankfully in time, in the right area.

I made my way to the seller after, and well, I was catfished, or shall I say "cotfished". The cot was decent, but it wasn’t like the picture. $10 was an ok price.

This was what I needed for my very near future camping trip. It was more than just a place to sleep. It represented me taking steps to heal — doing something for me.

I headed out to Mathis to check out Lake Corpus Christi.

Those sixty-four ounces were still making themselves known.

We made it into Mathis and finally to the entrance of Lake Corpus Christi. I couldn’t wait. I didn’t know the speed limit, and I wasn’t paying attention to it. Upon paying for entry and passing the welcome center, I was issued a warning for going ten miles over. But I was there. And I didn’t get a ticket.

It seems like when you're trying to find things to create peace, something happens that tries to disrupt.

Right before entering the lake area, I was expressing where I stand with Him. I know what side I’m on. I know it isn’t evil. I’m not confused about that.

The day prior, I had an epiphany about my position here on Earth. Why? The whole shit magnet thing. Helping others when I can, when it’s in my path, when it’s my duty. I told God, “Fine. I’ll take the position.” I added something to the effect that if this is what He wants me to do for my time while I’m here, so be it. I accepted this non-paying, divine, earthly job.

Looking back at how the day started, I had woken up to a notification from my Bible app.

“Verse of the Day:
However, I consider my life worth nothing to me; my only aim is to finish the race and complete the task the Lord Jesus has given me…”

So before entering the lake area, I was expressing where I stand. I know what side I’m on. I know it isn’t evil. I said I hope I make it into heaven. Because it would suck if I didn’t. I didn’t mention the thoughts from yesterday or the Bible app notification yet.

Also, it’s like — how did the Bible app know? I didn’t speak this aloud. I can’t blame it on the phone listening. These were thoughts. Not spoken words. It was a message.

I perused the lake area and made the decision that this would be where I conduct my retreat. Bible reading. Yoga — meditation and breath work included. Breaking down information. Fishing. Ultimately stabilizing. Regaining balance. Not healed, but stable. I needed to get back to that. At least enough before bringing out the big guns. Counseling. Solitude.

I saw the cabins. Some with screens. Some with windows and air conditioning. Sites for tents. Some with water. Some with and without electricity. It was settled. This would be the spot.

I left the lake and continued the day of rest. Some intense moments, but rest was implemented. I’ll need a full week without anything else for sure.

I ended the night medicating my father and getting him set up. He’s been sick for a few days. Viral or bacterial, I’m treating symptomatically. Nothing too crazy momentarily aside from slight throat irritation and a runny nose. A good decongestant should do the trick. Hot tea. Lemon and honey. Plenty of fluids. Orange juice. Vitamin C. I’ve had him zinc up with D3 and the usual OTCs. Mainly, it’s about strengthening his immune system. Got this.

I started to enter the sandman with a random flick to transition. Day of the Dead (2008). Too cheesy. I watched the trailer to George Romero’s Diary of the Dead. Maybe another time. Bad acting, interesting scenes. I landed on Sinners, which I’ve already seen, but it was good, so why not.

Going to bed with something familiar helps me power down. Something new keeps my brain engaged.

There’s a reason for that. Familiar doesn’t demand the same cognitive load. There are no suspense loops, no problem-solving, no uncertainty to resolve. New stories activate the brain. Familiar ones regulate it. Predictable input tells the nervous system it’s safe to power down.

And then the night ends with a scripture in the movie I’m falling asleep to:

1 Corinthians 10:13 (NIV)

“No temptation has overtaken you except what is common to mankind. And God is faithful; he will not let you be tempted beyond what you can bear. But when you are tempted, he will also provide a way out so that you can endure it.”

Maybe for me.

Maybe for someone else.

The choice is yours.

Do what’s right.