The Hogwarts Letter

Evelynn is home now and reaping the birthday gifts that were delivered in her absence. 😜



https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZrafT1-MbZM&t=2s

The post where I wallow in a bit of self-pity and then realize I still have choices

    The last few days have been such a funk for me. I've been looking at that first sentence for five minutes thinking how weird it looks and how I could make it better. I'm leaving it, though. The inner turmoil has been great, epic even; I smile and laugh yet I feel half a second away from crying. Life continues down this path fraught with unexpected tidings at every turn, the questioning of the parts of life that attack me and give me no options. No options. It's a bitter place to be. Not meeting expectations, equally embittering. Feeling the distance of relationships keenly, while not embittering, certainly lonely. Not feeling settled, home but not home.

    Eight weeks. That's how much time the husband has spent at home in the last year. There's no sense of anything normal. The stressors on our life are immense and we have handled them as well as we can despite the miles. Every six months or so I seem to just hit this wall of self doubt, a loathing relationship with self pity. It's this battle of this is the life I chose. This is the life I choose. I would do it all again. In an instant. And against this choice is the overwhelming desire sometimes to be that family that just chills. Has the 9 to 5. Has everyone in one place, under one roof. Who can have Easter together as a family instead of this disconnect that lead me to the McDonald's drive-thru yesterday. 

    I get out, see people, talk with friends and the mantra is "smile- keep calm and carry on" but the thing about this chosen life is so few truly understand what it's like. Honestly, it's those people that do get it that keep me grounded, my problems less consuming when I know that my problems aren't as bad as they could be. It's only been a year. I've travelled so much myself to put our family together. He's not in a place of danger. This time has been so much easier than the years I spent pregnant with toddlers underfoot. But I still wait to hit the bottom; the bottom taunts me, yet I just laugh and say "I stopped wondering where the bottom is a long time ago."

    One more phone call or piece of mail dealing with the PA house nightmare is always there... after two years. It just doesn't stop. The comments of "You handle things so well." or "You make is seem so easy..." from well-meaning people echo around me and stopped doing anything for my heart years ago. I dislike platitudes. Those who say the words and then walk away without another thought or even an arm around the shoulders. Those who offer those thoughts and leave are nameless to me (so if you're reading this, it's probably not you- ha! My one caveat that this is just a blog therapy session and not aimed at anyone in particular or based off of any recent platitudes). Those people have no idea. They recognize the struggle but put off the real moments, the moments I have sat in the floor surrounded by chaos and sobbed. Apparently I'm the queen of appearances. I make the descent into madness look good and graceful. All I know is that it's one moment at a time. It's a phone call to the few who have gone through this life with me. It's hanging onto the few constants: God, family, and coffee. And a good dose of ridiculousness for laughter. Lots of laughter. It's the reminder that I chose this life, the adventure of it, the stress of it, the love of it, the growth from it, and apparently the madness of it. 

    Where we are in this life is such a small point in eternity. I refuse to ask "Why me?" because why not me? It's my story. It's my life to share. While I may not have many options when it comes to how life is currently being dealt, I certainly have choices in how I deal with it. I choose to realize that life is unpredictable (even in that fabled world of working a 9 to 5). I choose to handle the downs with grace. I choose to offer mercy to those floundering with my thorns (because sometimes platitudes are all that some people can offer). I choose to reach out to those in similar situations and be the armful of hugs to those who walk it with me, those who want to be part of the story and not merely commentators.

    In 2 Corinthians, Paul speaks of his thorn in his flesh. He had to learn to deal with it and accept it as part of his life no matter how much it pained him. "Concerning this I implored the Lord three times that it leave me. And He said to me, 'My grace is sufficient for you, for power is perfected in weakness.' Most gladly, therefore, I will rather boast about my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may dwell in me. Therefore I am well content with weaknesses, with insults, with distresses, with persecutions, with difficulties, for Christ's sake; for when I am weak, then I am strong." (2 Cor. 12:8-10) There are so many things worse that what is happening in my small life. Paul certainly had a few more concerns. See? Blog therapy session nearly complete and I'm feeling much better. It's a good life even though the rose colored glasses have just turned a putrid color at times in the last couple of years. Keep calm and carry on.