Life is hard, right now.
And I apologize in advance, because it seems like my heart bleeds most when my bare feet are climbing a mountain- which totally makes sense now that I type it out.
Regardless, parenthood is mocking me; marriage is challenging me; my past is haunting me and all of this is starting to overwhelm me. I am so acutely aware of my frailty and I understand when David lamented about his soul being like dust. My responses to stress and conflict have not been Christlike, unfortunately, but I’m trying to figure out why and this little voice in my head is telling me it’s because I’m defective.
Trauma from my childhood has resurrected itself in the form of reality-bending anxiety and something needs to be done about it. But I am not ready to try, to journey. My energy is sapped from just doing life, where am I going to find the ability to conquer this jagged mountain?
“From Jesus,” is the Sunday school answer but that remains to be seen. Am I doubting His power and love and grace? No. Because I am aware that it will be His effort partnered with mine and I am afraid of what I will need to sacrifice for my effort.
I am terrified of the possibility of diagnoses, prescriptions, stigmas, failure, and my own altered perspective of myself. But I want peace and I want to be able to look around at my life without seeing shadows of pain and hearing voices of destruction. How did I become so easily broken? I feel like a crumpled piece of paper, no matter how smoothed out, the lines will always be there and I will never be unblemished.
There is a quote from a motivational speak that has been floating around in my soul and I can’t ignore it and it goes something like,
“Change happens when the pain of staying the same is greater than the pain of change.”
Which is where I suppose I am at. I can’t continue like this and my children don’t deserve a mother so wrought with pain that it interferes with their own upbringing. I don’t want to turn this climb into a forty-year-wandering.
Sorry, this blog doesn’t have a clean ending.