Wednesday, October 21, 2015

Inside Out

I disappeared from this space rather abruptly. I thought I'd turn myself a inside out for a few moments to explain myself.

I said awhile ago that I wanted to be more authentic. To let people really meet me. So here I am. This is me being unbelievably vulnerable. This is me sharing thoughts I have never spoken aloud.

A friend posted this on Facebook:
All I could think was, "that's me."
"It's caring about everything then caring about nothing. It's feeling everything at once then feeling paralysingly numb." [sic]

Here are a few of the things I worry about:

If I died, who would know how to make my kids' sandwiches the "right" way? No one will take the time to put the peanut butter on both pieces of bread before putting the jelly on top of the peanut butter so the jelly won't soak into the bread and make it soggy. No one will know not to cut Junior's sandwich, to cut Alice's into triangles and to cut Lizzie's into 6 rectangles. No one will cut the sandwich by pressing the knife into the bread to make clean edges instead of sawing at it making crumby edges.

Who will wrap my husband's sandwiches in wax paper and fold them up like a present? If they put his sandwich in a baggie, will they know to wrap it in a paper towel first? That's how he likes it.

Yet, I wait until the last moment to make lunches...usually close to midnight when I am too tired to take my time. 

Who will wipe the peanut butter, cream cheese or other sticky substance from the knives before loading them in the dishwasher if I am not here? My family will be eating with dirty, food encrusted knives.

My son will surely die of anaphylaxis from exposure to his allergen if I do not frantically check every label on every ingredient multiple times each time I buy it, each time we eat out, each time someone offers him food away from home. Too many adults don't take food allergies seriously or don't understand them and my son is in constant danger.

I worry about my husband not being able to manage the house & kids in my absence should I ever be absent...while dreaming of being absent just to watch him squirm a bit and really experience & appreciate everything I do.

But I have to do so many household things, I give up before I even start...because who really cares anyhow? No one will notice if the toilets go one more day (or week) without being cleaned. No one will notice that I spot cleaned the kitchen floor instead of giving it a proper mopping. I might as well leave the crayon on the wall since they're probably going to draw on that other wall with a pencil while I'm focused on cleaning the crayon anyhow.

What if I die and my husband forgets to do spelling homework with Junior on Tuesdays and Thursdays, and forgets to fill out and sign the form and send it back on Fridays? And he forgets to have him color his "I can read 100 books" thingy? Or he doesn't check his math homework and have him fix the mistakes? Or he forgets to pack him a lunch or give him bagel money on Fridays? Or no one shows up on the days we signed up to be the secret reader in Junior's class because I wasn't there to pick out a book and remind the person to show up?

So I forget to have him color his 100 books thingy and end up doing it myself.

I have so many things to get done, so many things asked of me and I get them all done. And everyone loves the work I've done and the end product is great, but it isn't up to my standards. I know what I am capable of and it is both more and better than what I have done. I know I could do better, but I can't seem to drag myself out of the fog to do it.

I have days, weeks and sometimes months of good days. Clarity. Foglessness. Days of productivity. Days where the worries vanish like M&Ms left out in a candy bowl in a room full of kids.
The Lord is my shepherd; there is nothing I lack.
In green pastures he makes me lie down;
to still waters he leads me; he restores my soul.

He guides me along right paths for the sake of his name.

Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death,

I will fear no evil, for you are with me;

your rod and your staff comfort me.
                           - Psalms 23: 1-4
This are what my "valley of the shadow of death" looks like. This is my comfort. I will make it through. I will walk through the valley. God is with me as I walk and I do not journey alone. I remember that there is a shadow because a great light stands behind that which I fear beckoning me forward, encouraging me to keep walking. Only He can restore my soul.


  1. I am going to be blunt. Have you talked with your doctor about this? If not, please, please do. I say this as someone who has been there. There is help available and there is no shame is asking for it.

    My prayers are with you!

    1. Hi Donna! I appreciate the bluntness (I am pretty blunt in person too). I have talked with my doctor. We are working on a plan. It seems to be hormonal (thank you peri-menopause). I've taken medication for anxiety and saw a counselor and have no qualms about revisiting either of those things. Thank you :-)

  2. Being open about depression and anxiety is a tough, tough thing. Bless you for doing it! There are so many people who are there, and who have been there for so many different reasons. Making it something that we can talk about is a very good thing, letting people know that they are not alone is a very good thing, and knowing that you are not alone in it yourself is also wonderful! As for anyone who has not experienced it, maybe it will help them better understand what it is like to go through something like that. Praying for you as you sort through this all!

  3. Thank you for being real. And I was glad to see your reply to Donna :).
    Prayers for you!