Writing down my feelings has always been
a significant release for me. Its taken weight off my shoulders, unpacking the
emotions that have come with the complications of life. I know I’m not unique. Everyone’s lives are
wrought with hard things. Struggling is the human experience. How we deal with
the struggle is key. Writing always helped me find the benefits of the fight.
As the timespan between blogs lengthens
each time I press post, I’ve been struggling to find the lessons in the hard
things. It’s not that I don’t have anything to write, it’s almost as though I
have too much. All my thoughts and worries are disjointed.
Maybe because I have a million and one
of them.
I want to find my center again, and I’m
coming here to find it.
But what words do I use?
Where do I begin?
My thoughts used to flow through my
fingers to the keyboard effortlessly, and now the sit in my head,
swirling…overwhelming…stifling my growth.
I suppose I just need to let go.
Let go of the insecurities that come
with being a new stepmother.
Let go of the pain of leaving Ryan’s
family in California.
Let go of the constant concern for my
children’s mental and physical wellbeing.
Let go of the longing for new friends
and connection.
Let go of beating myself up for not
living up to the standards I set for myself.
Let go of the sadness of all the loss.
Let go of the worry that what I give
won’t be enough.
But if I let go of all of that, what
will be left?
An empty shell? A superficial wasteland of insincerity?
If I must keep it all with me, how can I
find the joyful, secure woman I long to be? I see glimpses of her, but being a
woman means feelings.
I’m not a robot.
I’m a contradiction. I hold all my
worries close, but at the same time I harbor an immense gratefulness for the
blessings in my life. The yin and yang pull me in either direction. A constant
tug-o-war of bliss and pain.
I suppose that’s the human experience in
a nutshell.
The thing is, I believe I was a spirit
before I was a human. I believe that this spirit is an organism dwelling inside
of me waiting for nourishment, and waiting for me to let go of the worry and
focus on my faith that, in the end, all will be well.
Change is hard.
Feeling I'm letting people down is hard.
But if I’m trying my best, what more can
I do?
I suppose all there is, is prayer.
He’s healed me before, He can heal me
again.
I read this quote recently: “And once the storm is over, you won’t remember how you
made it through, how you managed to survive. You won’t even be sure, whether
the storm is really over. But one thing is certain. When you come out of the
storm, you won’t be the same person who walked in. That’s what this storm’s all
about.”
I’m not the person I was a few years
ago. Last year in school I expected absolute perfection of myself. At times it was debilitating. Who is this person? It seems I’m just having growing pains getting used to this new skin. I
internalize things on a different level and want more than anything for my
children, my husband, my extended family, and those around me to have joy…and
when they don’t…I feel so responsible for it all. And when you’re surrounded by
six teenagers, three with a disease that demands their attention 24/7, there is
always some kind of angst.
It’s a lot to hold.
Don’t get me wrong, I hold it gladly.
But more than anything, I want to walk
out the door, feel the sun on my face, raise my arms in the air and say, “I am
enough!”
I guess I won’t know for sure if I was
until all the kids are out on their own and aren’t complete messes...meaning they can feed themselves and remember to brush their teeth...
But one day, I have faith that while
sitting on my child’s couch, I’ll watch a grandchild take their first steps.
And then it will hit me, “Whoa. I was enough. I really was.”
“And they will be too.”
