I keep thinking I should write more. But I don’t want to primarily share negativity. I want to write uplifting and cheerful and fun words. And when life is uplifting and cheerful and fun, I’m focused on living it, soaking it in. So those experiences and words? They are held close and treasured but rarely shared with a blank page. I hope to remedy that. But herein lies the current problem. Primarily? Mostly? I’m tired. I’m emotionally exhausted from the strain of decisions made by members of both my immediate family and the one I married into. I’m drained from watching my husband struggle to stand up for what he knows is right while trying to balance the feelings and hurts and relationships of those he loves. I’m frustrated that I can’t help him and that no one else involved seems to feel peace is a priority if it means any kind of sacrifice on their part – all while he is sacrificing his energy and heart. I’m wearied from watching helplessly from a distance as those close to my heart attempt to self-destruct, taking out other loved ones with them. I’m broken hearted from the deluge of news from friends and acquaintances that reverberate through conversations and texts and social media with pain that encompasses the physical, emotional and spiritual realms. I’m emptied, physically, from the apparent rebellion of my body. And I’m worn down, mentally, from the uncertainty – how will my body react to my former “normal”? Is it really all in my head? Am I losing my mind? Becoming lazy and subconsciously creating an excuse?
I feel cracked, oozing energy at all levels. I looked at the 100 Word prompt thinking I just needed to write SOMETHING and immediately felt as if my brain was wrapped in a thick, suffocating blanket. The idea of anything outside of essential day to day actions just…well… fatigues me.
I want to be support for my husband, not another burden. I want to be loving and attentive wife and mother and sister and daughter and friend. I want to be active. Right now, I’m none of that. I feel as if I’m a shadow, going through necessary actions.
Thankfully everything in life is temporary – highs and lows and every season – it all passes and ripples and morphs into the next phase. I know that. I’m just ready to start reshaping this one, molding it like clay into a more invigorating life (and persona). However, I’m not the Potter. I’m the clay. God doesn’t want life to be lived under my own strength. He doesn’t want me to simply survive situations but to grow closer to Him, become more like Him. The temptation to insulate myself (and my family) rears its head. The desire to “write off” the difficult people and situations sneaks into my spirit. The fantasy of telling people they got themselves into this mess or lambast them for their deficiencies is attractive. But none of that is an option. As quickly as I find those ideas growing, I (try to) uproot and remove them from my psyche. That’s not who I was created to be. I was created to be cracked. I was created to ooze emotions and energy on the behalf of others. I was created to love. And that’s not easy or fun. It doesn’t feel good. It’s not romantic. I might not have the energy to respond to a writing prompt, or write at all. I might not be able to fathom training for a triathlon, or even running a 5k. But I will continue to love. Or at least strive to. But maybe after a nap?