Overcast

March 18, 2008 at 9:06 pm 4 comments

This week has been difficult.  Yes, I do realize it’s only Tuesday.   

My arms and legs are heavy.  All I want to do is sleep.  I ask S questions over and over again, forgetting his answers in seconds.  I cry often.  The dishes are piled in the sink and my kids spend their mornings searching for clean underwear.   

I cannot pin point a thought or action that harnesses this nothingness.  But I feel like a thread that has been tugged on.  And I am unraveling.   

The sky is bleak.  The air, wet, chilly.  Cold rain plops on the windshield as I drive Polly to therapy.   

Two years ago I felt like this, in Kiev at the hospital with Polly.  Easter that year was overcast.  Polly was just two weeks old.   

I remember sitting on my white linen sheets, crisp and clean, and writing in my journal on Easter morning.  That afternoon S was going to pick me up.  We were going to go back to our apartment and watch Lainie and Zo find their baskets.  Then we would go to church.  I tried to pray and sing.  I felt nothing.  

My body remembers, I guess. 

Another year.  Another Easter.  I’ve changed so much.  I’ve grown.  My family is settled into yet another home, this one has a front porch where we can sit and watch the kids ride their bikes in the spring.  My husband has an office.  My children have play-dates. 

I pray and ask God to take my mushiness and mold it into usefulness.  I ask God for thankfulness, for joy.  I ask that my eyes would open up to all the blessing and provision that surrounds me.  For a moment, I fall on the grace that brought me to belief in the first place. 

Then I quietly pick up my bone of discontentment and blah, and I find a nice corner where I can gnaw it to death. 

It’s supposed to be sunny and warm tomorrow.  I think by then I’ll be ready to dig a hole in the yard.  

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4 Comments Add your own

  • 1. Emily  |  March 19, 2008 at 12:07 pm

    You describe this feeling so well. I completely understand and have been in its neighborhood before. Lovely post.

    Reply
  • 2. Julie  |  March 19, 2008 at 8:21 pm

    Dear Pocket Lint, yes, you have described it well! I hope soon you can soon bury the bone. Meanwhile here’s a hug. And a frown of total empathy.

    Reply
  • 3. crickl's nest  |  March 20, 2008 at 6:16 am

    I tagged you if you’re up to it! Read about it on my blog. It’s called 7 Things.

    =)

    Reply
  • 4. theramblinghousewife  |  March 24, 2008 at 6:13 pm

    I really think that I would be the same way if I lived in a climate with such a long winter.

    I can’t cope with gray skies . . ..

    My sister moved to the UK and has struggled there . . .

    Hope your feeling better

    Reply

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