But because thou art not reformed, therefore when thy soul draweth into herself from all bodily things and delights, thou findest nothing but emptiness, darkness and heaviness; so that thou thinkest it an hundred years till thou be out again to some bodily delight or vain thoughts, and it is no wonder; for he that cometh home to his house, and findeth nothing but stink and smoke, and a chiding wife, he will quickly run out of it. Even so thy soul, finding no comfort in itself, but black smoke of spiritual blindness, or great chiding of guilty or fleshly thoughts, crying upon thee that thou canst not be in peace, verily it will quickly be weary of being alone and recollected, until it be out again. And this is the darkness of conscience. (John Climacus)

I enjoy my time alone. I prefer when my soul draweth into herself.

To do so is not entirely happy, but it is far from stink, smoke, and chiding wife.

There are unresolved regrets, bruised pride, and awareness of how I have hurt others.

But there is also peace, wholeness, lightness, restoration, and fulfillment.

Perhaps I am not mired in sin, but I can still see the muddy pit.