I wish that I had something funny or encouraging or uplifting to say, but the fact is that I am just plumb worn out. I’m exhausted – physically, emotionally, mentally, spiritually. I don’t understand why God has brought us to this place in life. Did we misunderstand him? Did we hear wrong? Were we disobedient in some way?
I feel hopeless and angry, like a complete failure, a hypocrite. I have one child who won’t sleep and who I’m starting to resent for being attached to me 24/7. I have another who is driving me crazy with his disobedience. I’m losing my patience all the time and in no way being the mother they need or deserve.
I’m trying to function in a home that is not my own, with things that are not my own, living in one room with both kids. Every single time I try to put Thalia to sleep, Justus comes in and wakes her up before I can get her down. The weather has already turned snowy and cold so we can’t even go outside and play because there’s no one to watch Thalia while I take Justus to burn off some energy.
I miss my friends. I miss my church. I miss the place that’s been my home for 29 years. Every time we leave the house my son asks me if we’re going to see his friends. I am at my wits end.
Also I hurt. In addition to falling – down the stairs, on the ice, in the puddles brought in by all the snow – I keep running into things. I’ve run into a giant sewing machine, a washer, a kitchen island, a bookshelf. I am shoveling snow and going up and down stairs and always carrying a child and I’m just sore.
I pray and God is silent. I rail and receive no answer. Tonight I was praying scripture over my daughter and I’m not even sure I can say I believe it anymore. I feel like I would be more successful in getting through if I just rammed my head into a brick wall repeatedly.
My parents have been wonderful but they’re not here. They both have to work. This week, the first week of the separation, my mom is out of town and my dad is working three jobs. I’m not angry at them. I adore them. I am furious at life and this situation and I. Do. Not. Understand. I just don’t.
I don’t have any pithy comments or sage spiritual advice. I’m out. I’m empty. I so desperately need to be filled and I’m so angry at God we’re barely even on speaking terms.
Old enemies are raring their heads – depression, addiction, failure – circling like rabid wolves, closing in on my thoughts. I am supposed to be living an overcoming life. This is not what it is supposed to look like.
Some conqueror I am. I can’t even win a fight against ice cream.
I am grateful for the small bright spots.
My mom’s sweet messages of encouragement.
My dad hugging me while I yelled and cried tonight.
My son wrapping his arms around the dog’s butt and telling him he loves him.
My daughter’s giggles for no apparent reason at all.
Justus, after hearing me crying and praying, coming up to me and saying, “I know Money. I know. I kiss. I know Money . . . Water please?”
The gift of seeing bald eagles while driving into town, scores of elk, mountain goats on the side of the road and the entire herd of bighorn sheep this afternoon, close enough to touch.
I think God is still faithful. I think there must be a plan somewhere in all of this. I am fairly certain this season of life won’t last forever, but right now it feels like an eternity.
One day at a time is too much. I’m living minute to minute and even that often seems daunting.