I'm not sure which one comes first, the melancholy or the spiraling lack of self-control. But sometimes I just let my life happen around me: I don't sleep like I should. I don't eat like I should. I binge watch movies and television while the laundry piles up and the bathroom get's moldy. I call it apathy, but that apathy is quickly followed by self-derision. I feel like a failure, and something whispers: "The worth of your existence is measured by the effort you put into it."
So I pull myself together. I scrub the shower. I eat a dinner that isn't icecream. I write shopping lists. I wash and dry AND fold my laundry. But even as I stand triumphantly atop my newly-built adult life, I am mocked by the premonition that apathy will return and I will again be mediocre. I'm king of the hill, but I will roll back down. I'm king of the hill, but from the top, the hill seems pointless, even fake.
Perhaps my soul knows. It knows that it wasn't made for sleepless nights and tv binges. It knows that it wasn't made for a perfectly ordered life of clean bathrooms and well stocked freezers.
My soul knows that my value, my life's value, does not lie in what I do or do not contribute. My value was assigned for me before I was born. My value was imparted to me by an act of love over 2000 years ago. My value will be fulfilled when moments after my death I meet the One my soul was created for.
So for my soul, I will seek this foundation, and leave the hills to others.