I started out today with a headache; that was indication enough that it was going to be a rough day. It was tough to get the big kids motivated to eat breakfast and get dressed for school. I always chuckle when people talk about "controlling" their kids. Anyone who thinks kids could be controlled doesn't have any of their own. It seemed like the more I cajoled, nagged and bugged them to hurry up, they shifted down a gear.
Doug and I went to our first storytime together at the library after we had dropped them off. It was so wonderful to just have one person. I forget sometimes how much easier it is to move around when I'm only in charge of one, versus three, little people. There is a sense that I am moving a bit quicker and more forcefully in the intended direction. Directing three people around usually results in a very circuitous movement. I liken it to a travelling three-ring circus. When there's three of them, I'm really just herding, trying to drive them in the vicinity of the desired destination. It was luxurious to have Doug in my arms and walk directly from storytime to our van.
It was a pick-up that I feel like I stepped in tar. It's a tricky thing, preschool. I can only compare it, in some ways, to high school. There are different groups of women, all of whom are very cordial, bustling about, trying to herd their children. We are all working on a common goal but with different outcomes. There can't be any real conversations because we're constantly making sure our children aren't hurting each other or defiling the church. It's easy to feel alone in a crowd like that. It's easy to feel slighted, or marginalized. I think the other moms are lovely, honestly. It's my own issues of insecurity and low self-worth that cause me to feel like I've just exited the Mad Tea Cups ride. I never feel like I have my footing, my stomach feels twisted in knots and I end up feeling like I need a good nap.
No one said anything unkind at pick-up, but I still walked out feeling unsettled. I really did feel like I stepped in something that I couldn't shake--like a feeling of impending doom. Really, though, it was just like splitting a log; it's easier when you can find the existing crack. I have been feeling beaten-down lately. It's been tough to parent when you feel so stressed out. I don't feel like I can be the kind of calm parent I want to be. So anything averse that happens, it's like the crack expands further. I can feel my insides splintering. Usually I can pull myself together, but lately the stress has been impeding my ability to fake it.
Jeremy has always had a weird quirk about eating paper. I don't understand it in the least. It makes no sense to me. A lot of times, I can understand where he's coming from. I can empathize and so it makes it easier to talk to him about it. The paper-eating is beyond anything I can comprehend. Lately, it's taken an even more bizarre twist. He has taken to eating his sister's books and works of art. I found him, the other day, eating the pages out of a book my parents had purchased for Bekah. Two days ago, they were pretending that one of her pieces of art was a treasure map. By the time we reached home, he had torn it up and was eating it. Today, on the way home from preschool, he was looking at a drawing Bekah had done in preschool. He took it into the house with him. When I got inside, I found him with the paper in his mouth.
Like I said, usually I can compose myself. Usually, I can send him to his room and not get too bent out of shape. Today was not one of those days. His behavior went downhill from there and he spent the better part of the afternoon in his room.
Add to this inexplicable behavior stress about money and everything is magnified. I have been pretty open about some of my family's financial woes, so I won't rehash too much. I will say, we are still drowning. There is a backlog of medical bills that we really can't unsnarl. We are not sure how much longer we will be allowed to stay in our house. We're not sure where we'll end up if we aren't living in our house. These are not small issues. We recently purchased a new van in an attempt to save money every month. The crazy thing is that the only bit of leverage we had was our van--a 2010 Honda Odyssey. It was the only thing we owned that had any equity. The hope was that lowering the car payment would help ease money into other areas.
The problem is that we have been drowning for so long that it's like we were drowning under 8 feet of water and now we're drowning under 6. Still drowning, but not quite as much. (The numbers are just arbitrary.) Yes, I have an iPhone, but it's absolutely the only nice, new thing we own (aside from the van). I won't say I don't feel guilty about having it, but I live on that phone. It helps me do a lot of things I wouldn't be able to do without it. I hadn't had a new phone before this one in 3 1/2 years. And even if we sat in the dark, ate food out of cans and drove nowhere, we would still be drowning.
I am also aware that it's not a financial problem we're facing. It's really a spiritual problem. I know that we made good decisions when we bought the house. I didn't know at the time that we were making decisions based on bad information--no one knew, really. When we found out, there was no way to maneuver out of it. Our best bet was to ride it out; there was no way to sell a house we had barely been in for 6 months and no one could have fathomed how deep and wide the deception in the financial sector was. So we have been living by faith for about 3 years. We have poured every last dollar we have into trying to save a house; now we just have to see what the bank is going to say. Ultimately, it's a powerless feeling. We know no one who would personally help bail us out. Furthermore, I wouldn't want anymore good money chasing after bad.
I've learned, through all of this, that we can live on so much less than what we think we can. At the same time, there is a grind to having money be in every conversation. Can we afford that? Can I afford to drive there? Is that the best use of my money? Any little hiccup sends us into a frenzy. We are living with no margins, so it takes very little to send us into a tailspin. Ultimately, this is really about trusting God, about trusting that He has a plan. Time has demonstrated, though, that it's easier to do that in the earlier months of a drought (spiritual, financial, emotional) than in the endless middle of a drought.
That's where I find myself. In the middle of what seems like a never-ending drought. There is no amount of money that can solve this drought, though. It's tough to have to make decisions about people I love. My close girlfriend is getting married in a few weeks. She's having a bachelorette party this weekend. We received an unexpected windfall in the amount of Brian's weekly budget for gas. Am I to take that to mean I should go, or do I really need to look forward and see if perhaps the money will be better spent elsewhere? There's a great parenting seminar at my church. The problem is, my church is just far enough away that it eats away at my weekly gas budget. It's free, but I'm spending money to get there. Is that okay? Is that noble, or am I justifying and rationalizing? And so it goes for every single small decision I'm forced to make everyday.
I know that I have more than most. I am grateful for what I have. I'm not looking for handouts, I'm just saying, this is a grind. It's stressful. It seems like there is no end in sight. And it drags on my soul. I wish I could remember that, as long as Peter kept his eyes on Jesus, he was able to walk on the water as well. I've got to be honest; I'm feeling weary of being faithful. I know God has a plan, but it so far has only seemed to involve us getting broker. I'm not sure exactly where He's headed with all of it and I'd love to know. Not so that I wouldn't have to pay attention to him, but so that I could feel less anxious.
All of this contributes to the tar I feel like has a hold of me. It shades all of my interactions with my friends. It shades my interactions with my children. I usually feel like my tank is only ever half-full. This means I can only handle about one big crisis or emotional outburst or five smaller ones. Any more than that and I come unglued. I know that I should just say, "oh, God has plans for me, plans to prosper me, blah blah blah." But the God I serve knows my heart. He knows how weary and worn-down I feel. I'm not going to insult him, going around praising Him with my lips and cursing Him in my heart.
I was not a great mom today. I didn't handle Jeremy's misbehaving in a calm manner. I was brusque with him and I don't even feel all that bad, that's what kills me. I love all of my kids, but I can't muster any "like" up for him lately. I don't know why, but he's bearing the brunt of my frustration, my unrest, my discontent. I wish I had answers, but really all I have is more questions. I am tired in a way that sleep can't touch. I have been on the verge of tears every day for about two weeks. I have had a strong desire to just pull the covers over my head. I can say I love my kids because I get up, get them fed and dressed and entertained even though I really don't feel like doing anything. Other than that, it's all rote.
I am tired of platitudes, of the same verses being thrown at me over and over again. I was seeing a therapist, but that became a logistical nightmare in and of itself. And when you're already drowning, the last thing you want to do is work harder. I haven't been on many playdates, but those aren't conducive to talking either. I don't even know what I want to hear. I feel like a giant knee without cartilage; every movement is painful and the cure is even more painful than the ailment.
I wish I had the answers, really. I wish I could wave a magic wand and make this all go away. I do laugh a lot, but it's just like short gasps for air before another wave hits. I've been swimming in deep water for so long, I'm hoping it's soon that I feel earth beneath my feet again.
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