Monday, December 7, 2015
Big Things. Little Things. Heavy Things.
I don't blog here like I used to. I think I got too focused on every post being some publication-worthy essay that could change the world. But you know what I always loved about blogging? I loved coming here and spilling out all of the things on my heart and sometimes hearing a voice say, "me too."
I'm in an odd place lately. I'm not depressed. My meds are working fine. But I am weighed down. I am weighed down by big things out of my control, like the Syrian refugee crisis, all of the mass shootings, the things Christians do and say that make me think we read two very different Bibles and follow two very different men named Jesus...
I am weighed down by friends facing infertility when I would give anything to hand over my fertility. I always got pregnant so easily and had physically healthy pregnancies. I wish I could donate that. I don't need it anymore.
I am weighed down by my own dreams that seem to be flopping like dead fish but also inching towards coming true. It is possible for both of these images to be accurate.
I am weighed down by grocery shopping. I put it off until I have no choice and then I just want to be done and out of the store. It drives me a little crazy, how much I spend and how fast my kids eat it all and how I will be right back in there buying it all again.
I am weighed down by the books and shows I don't have time to read or watch.
I am weighed down by the things I see my kids struggle with, by all of the answers I have that they will have to learn on their own, and by all of the unknown days of their possible futures.
I am weighed down with the certainty that I don't do enough as a wife, daughter, sister, or friend.
I am weighed down by knowing I could be better with finances, could make a dollar stretch further and give more away, but numbers make me want to crawl under a desk and cry.
Big things. Little things.
Friends going through divorce, walking down the road of chronic illness, hearing they have cancer, losing someone they love...
Life feels hard.
This post makes it sound like I am depressed, even though I said I'm not. I promise, I really am not in a bad place that way. I feel joy. There are things I like to do and I am reading and spending time with friends and family. I am working and writing and doing housework and forcing myself to go to the grocery store and pick up my prescription. There are so many beautiful things in my life, and I am taking pleasure in them.
But another friend just shared her grief, and I just finished Furiously Happy by Jenny Lawson, and the combo led me here, to this blog, where I used to share all of the craziness in my life with abandon. And I miss that. I miss this outlet.
So I am spilling my guts to you. I am admitting that carrying all of this around is hard, some days harder than others.
And I've missed you my pretties. I've missed you and I will try to do better.