The Hard Days

How’s our day going?

Jax got hurt and was so scared there would be blood that he wet his pants.

I fought with someone I never want to fight with.

I wanted to let baby Hank play on the rug without Yankee getting to close so I kenneled her and she got mad so she ended up hurting herself on the kennel and bleeding all over her bed. She’s fine, it’s fine.

Alvi has pulled things out of the plugs, grabbed bottles of things she most definitely shouldn’t, has drug food from one end of the house to the other, tried to eat Hank, almost flipped the rocking chair over, and the list goes on.

I’m tired. I imagine this is what a 3-4 day binger of anything would feel like. I’m not sure, of course, but it seems like a good comparison with how I feel.

I long to feel normal, for the haze to lift, to stop waking one day feeling at peace with things and back to torn apart all over again the next.

Writing has become extremely difficult right now, because nothing comes out the way I want it to. I sound like a disheveled, grumpy, scruffy, unpleasant old man. No offense to them, of course, it’s just another fitting comparison.

Writing and reading bring me so much joy, but it’s so difficult to do when my brain is functioning and minimum capacity. My spelling is so bad auto correct has no idea what I’m trying to say, everything becomes jumbled and out of order, my thoughts are just all over the place going one hundred miles an hour, while what my body and brain really need is real, pure rest.

I can pray for it so hard and eventually I get a small reprieve. Understanding this season of my life has by far been the hardest of them all. Everything is just pure mess, and I have to continue persevering and getting my crap together every single morning when I open my eyes, because I have 3, sometimes 4, children who depend on me to keep them going.

I still lose my cool. We don’t have 3 course meals for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Sometimes we eat chicken nuggets and fries for lunch followed by cereal for dinner. I promise, it isn’t always like this. More often than not, it’s not. But we all have days, and it‘s better to admit it than pretend you always have it together and your life never feels out of control.

If you truly have all of those things, I beg of you to tell me your secrets. Those beyond reading my Bible, praying, and having a therapist. ‘Cause I’ve got those bases covered.

Soon the fog will lift. We’ll go back to a little less chaos, a little more sleep, a lot more playing, and a better functioning mama.

If you’re struggling today, as I am, know that this too shall pass. A season does not last forever, and sooner than it’s started you can see the end. Your next season of good may not last as long as you’d like, so soak up every second of it you can.

Stop preparing for the worst so that when it’s not so bad you don’t feel as let down. Start preparing for the best, knowing with your heart it’s coming, and thank God when it comes, even if it isn’t what you were expecting, it isn’t the worst thing it could have been.

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