When I am blah, exhausted and weak, he is strong
I cannot quite put my finger on how I am this week. I can think of all the things I am not. I am not stressed about Macy's knee. I am not worried about Sydney's mouth. I am a normal amount of focused on the things that need to get done this week. I am not particularly sad or mourning. I am not obsessing about the amount of medical bills that were racked up in January. I am not specifically lonely. I am not interested in anymore elearning days. I am not mad, scared, or overwhelmed. I can best sum myself this week up as general malaise. I am blah. I feel a bit like a zombie that's been dragging their broken bits around behind them for a year and seven months.
I kind of thought once we got past the stress of January I would feel better. But honestly I don't. I feel kind of empty and tired. I don't feel like I can add anything interesting to conversation. I am milk toast. I keep seeing those memes on facebook that are like "January was a long year, but we made it." And I just keep thinking to myself, uhh okay, here hold my beer. It isn't a contest to see who can have the most bad things happen to them in the shortest amount of time but sometimes I feel like if there was I would be winning. I'm super tired of winning.
I am so tired of being tired. I am tired of everything being hard. I want some easy. I want to want to be productive. But all I want is to sleep for a week, have food brought to me while I sit and watch Victoria on Amazon Prime in my bed.
Here's the thing I keep thinking and it goes back once again to our expectations. One would expect that because my husband died, followed by my grandmother, and then I had skin cancer, that my trials would be over. You would expect maybe that after all of that long-suffering that things would get easier. Like maybe after all of that my daughter wouldn't need a bone graft in her jaw. You might think my middle daughter wouldn't have to have knee surgery. Expectations would say that these things wouldn't also bookend the furnace not working, a cat getting sick and me having to pay for two new pairs of glasses. Maybe I would catch an awesome break. And really, I did and I have.
There have been so many wonderful and beautiful things that have come from all of this hurt. When I think about that person that I was before my life blew up, I don't know anymore who she was. She didn't get it, that's for sure. She didn't understand what hard meant. She had no concept of lonely. She focused on the wrong things a lot, and didn't love people outside her comfort zone.
I read in "It's not Supposed to be this way" this weekend that I am "brave and beautiful and handpicked". I was handpicked by God to walk this path. I keep telling myself this.
I am here to raise these girls and love them enough for two parents. It is so easy to get overwhelmed by all of it. And I mean all of it all of it. But I am becoming, from the ashes of my very own fire. I am a warrior widow. I am a double duty parent. I am a workout buddy. I am the best darn office manager that any girl with 20 years of marketing experience could be. I am finding my way and my purpose in this mess. I get to help with the making of grief groups at my church and I am thrilled by this. I get to help those in front of me and around me. I get to tell people that life is hard and sucky, and that is okay. It doesn't matter what your own hurt, or stress or pain looks like for you. Pain is pain and disappointment is hard.
I cannot tell you how many times I have thought, I am drowning and I cannot do this. I told my daughter last week, "I am sorry. I feel like I am living a half life. Like I am only doing everything halfway. I feel like half a parent, half of an employee, and half of an adult." She looked at me and said, "I think you are living a double life. You are doing double of what everyone else has to do." Oh I cried. Then, I told her that was the nicest thing she ever said to me.
This too shall pass. I will get through this funk. I will live to fight another day. I will keep moving forward and remember that I can live a double life, or a triple life, whatever is placed in front of me because God guides my steps. When I am weak, sad, tired, or blah, he is strong.
So, I will wait.
I kind of thought once we got past the stress of January I would feel better. But honestly I don't. I feel kind of empty and tired. I don't feel like I can add anything interesting to conversation. I am milk toast. I keep seeing those memes on facebook that are like "January was a long year, but we made it." And I just keep thinking to myself, uhh okay, here hold my beer. It isn't a contest to see who can have the most bad things happen to them in the shortest amount of time but sometimes I feel like if there was I would be winning. I'm super tired of winning.
I am so tired of being tired. I am tired of everything being hard. I want some easy. I want to want to be productive. But all I want is to sleep for a week, have food brought to me while I sit and watch Victoria on Amazon Prime in my bed.
Here's the thing I keep thinking and it goes back once again to our expectations. One would expect that because my husband died, followed by my grandmother, and then I had skin cancer, that my trials would be over. You would expect maybe that after all of that long-suffering that things would get easier. Like maybe after all of that my daughter wouldn't need a bone graft in her jaw. You might think my middle daughter wouldn't have to have knee surgery. Expectations would say that these things wouldn't also bookend the furnace not working, a cat getting sick and me having to pay for two new pairs of glasses. Maybe I would catch an awesome break. And really, I did and I have.
There have been so many wonderful and beautiful things that have come from all of this hurt. When I think about that person that I was before my life blew up, I don't know anymore who she was. She didn't get it, that's for sure. She didn't understand what hard meant. She had no concept of lonely. She focused on the wrong things a lot, and didn't love people outside her comfort zone.
I read in "It's not Supposed to be this way" this weekend that I am "brave and beautiful and handpicked". I was handpicked by God to walk this path. I keep telling myself this.
I am here to raise these girls and love them enough for two parents. It is so easy to get overwhelmed by all of it. And I mean all of it all of it. But I am becoming, from the ashes of my very own fire. I am a warrior widow. I am a double duty parent. I am a workout buddy. I am the best darn office manager that any girl with 20 years of marketing experience could be. I am finding my way and my purpose in this mess. I get to help with the making of grief groups at my church and I am thrilled by this. I get to help those in front of me and around me. I get to tell people that life is hard and sucky, and that is okay. It doesn't matter what your own hurt, or stress or pain looks like for you. Pain is pain and disappointment is hard.
I cannot tell you how many times I have thought, I am drowning and I cannot do this. I told my daughter last week, "I am sorry. I feel like I am living a half life. Like I am only doing everything halfway. I feel like half a parent, half of an employee, and half of an adult." She looked at me and said, "I think you are living a double life. You are doing double of what everyone else has to do." Oh I cried. Then, I told her that was the nicest thing she ever said to me.
This too shall pass. I will get through this funk. I will live to fight another day. I will keep moving forward and remember that I can live a double life, or a triple life, whatever is placed in front of me because God guides my steps. When I am weak, sad, tired, or blah, he is strong.
So, I will wait.
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