It’s been so long since I’ve used this space. Occasionally, I visit it and then run out of time or energy to actually write a post. I’ve separated myself from Facebook as well, maybe permanently, so I know if I write I will get very little “coverage.” And, as with most things, it’s not really how I want it and I don’t have what I need to make it so, so an intention to post usually spirals down into a miserable puddle of discontent. “In the pipe!” as Piggle would say. He’s very into things going down pipes – namely, his poop.
I have this grand idea for a redesign with a masthead based on our family “crest.” I’d love for Henry to contribute too. But all of the content I think about is currently in the form of daydreams – and honestly I don’t know how healthy they are anyway. Almost everything I want to do ends up making me feel thwarted in some way these days…
So this is a picture of some impromptu moment of “lovings” with my boys and is so typical of my life these days: unshowered, unstyled, 30 lbs. heavier than I want to be, in stained, baggy clothes sitting on a shabby, dirty couch and inundated with boys. I’m tired and worn out and can’t imagine an end in sight. I wish I could say that their love makes it all worthwhile – and most days there are bright moments in my day when I’m able to just be grateful- but in general, if I’m truthful, I feel sad.
Just saying that, of course, doesn’t give a reader the whole picture. You wouldn’t know that I’ve struggled most of my life with depression and certainly my whole life with discontent. Kids aren’t the problem, they only heighten the problems that were already there. You don’t know how I’ve been struggling my whole life with blood sugar problems that are tied into my depression and anxiety and that I’ve been trying – mostly without any lasting success – to change my diet to give myself a better chance at life. Failing in that, which is what I have been doing as I see it for the last 10 odd years and in a bigger way in the last 4, is a source of increasing shame and depression.
I know in my mind I should be grateful for all I’ve been given. I have it better than so many. I know that some of this is just the difficulty associated with being a mother and that so many women better qualified than me at living in the world of commerce have chosen it as a profession above what they trained for, and are embracing its deprivations. I see them and I admire them. I want to accomplish, as a mother, about 10 times more than I ever seem to be able to accomplish. I feel like I see many moms succeeding at things I can’t even approach. I know I shouldn’t compare. It’s just hard when you know there’s more out there. That you COULD be doing better and WANT to be doing better. I know some of these desires to do better originate in selfish desires, but I also feel so often that there has to be more than this. Surely, when Jesus said He had come to give us life and give it abundantly, THIS was not what He had in mind. I know my ideal answer is probably that I should pray more, but I find it hard even to get quiet enough to do that, for I am afraid to unplug and let the sadness in.
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