These past few months I have just been feeling so....scattered? Maybe.
Spread thin?
Lost?
Or just all of the above.
I keep this blog because I love to write.
But It's more than that: I need to write. Whether it's my journal, a pseudo-secret blog on the internet, or a page ripped from a notebook...I need to be able to describe my world and my life. It's how I make sense of it. Even in my head, I only get so far before I have to empty it....sort it all out into words and phrases and expressions...rearrange it. Once I've "had it out" with my thoughts...and they've fought to fit into the right words...the finished product seems to squeeze back into my head so much easier.
Writing is my mental de-cluttering process.
But sometimes I can't write about something until I'm coming at it from the right perspective...until it's had a little time to simmer and settle. And such has been the case with my life these past six months or so. I've sat down and started to write about what is on my mind so SO many times...only to get frustrated that I can't sort it all out yet.
It has tried to take the shape of a post about being a loyal and supportive wife. It would start out with explaining how D-Hubby has finally chosen a career as a photographer. I would walk you through my journey, emotionally. I would want to tell you how excited I am that he's found something he loves...something that we love to do together...something that is creative and fulfilling. How I'm so proud of him. But I would also have to tell you my hesitations...my fears...knowing that this is something that will not ever likely make us financially wealthy...and will never have the kind of job security I expected my husband to have. I would have to explain how being self-employed makes me a little nervous...and excited!...and nervous. And I would have to admit how I wished I wasn't so conflicted sometimes...that I just always had the faith I should.
And then it I would try to cram everything into a post about just enjoying the little moments...the little things...because sometimes I would be so overwhelmed, I would forget. I would forget that life is not about visible accomplishments. I would write about how frustrated I was with a house that I never seem to be able to "stay on top of" because of my kids... and how I felt like I was doing it all alone...and then I would share the realization that my kids ARE my work...that when I forget that, I forget the five thousand reasons I have to be grateful and joyful every day. I would be able to bring myself to that moment of truth most completely by writing it all out.
IF I could just get it all out, that is.
Then I would save the draft. Then come back days, weeks later to try again.
For the what feels like bajillionth time I tried to sort out my life in words...I couldn't make it work. I still can't.
And even now, I want to write about how I'm feeling about working between 5-9 hours every day at a job other than my full-time one as a cook, housekeeper, family accountant, bookkeeper for family business, church primary leader, teacher, nurse, blah blah, student's wife and mother of two very busy toddlers. I think maybe it's the Lord's way of teaching me what things are really important...because there's not time for anything else at the moment. At the moment I'm blogging instead of showering. That's where I'm at, folks. Learning my lesson well, you see.
I had a friend make fun of me yesterday when I tried to express the struggle it's been to go back to work. I think maybe she thought I was whining. Maybe I was. Actually....I was. It doesn't nullify my need to talk about it, though...to write about it. I wish I could write it all out in a way that lays it bare, that makes the reader a perfect judge and helps the reader make a little more sense of herself.
But I can't. Not at the moment. I just can't seem to explain the ways my life, currently, is crazy and wonderful and so hard and so blessed all at the same time
The one thing I know, though, is that no matter how busy my life gets...by choice or necessity...I can't do it by myself. I can only do all I can. And no matter who's judging or watching or assuming or laughing or criticizing (most likely all in my head, anyways, of course) that I just keep doing the best that I can. I can't even tell you how many times I have been lifted and sustained by the love of my Father in Heaven over these past crazy months. There have been miracles, small and large...and whispers of encouragement in the most discouraging circumstances.
I know that, even through the fog, that He gives me things to hold onto...that even when I can't sort it out yet, or get a grasp on what-the-heck-is-going-on-anyway...when I can't put it into words or keep it straight...that I can take His hand and stay grounded. That, no matter what, He is there.
And I know that this insanity won't last forever. And if all it teaches me is how to press forward, steadfastly...and to understand what really is most important...then I suppose that I am entirely okay with that.
Maybe I should go shower...
