A couple of weeks ago at church, the speaker talked about how important it is to periodically ask the people around you what you need to change, and encouraged us all to follow that advice. He said we should ask two friends, people who know and love us, love the word of God, and we aren't related to. I agreed: this sounded like good advice. So I started thinking. Who should I ask?
The truth is that I came up with no one. I thought and thought and wondered, who fit all that criteria? The "not related to" part scratched Regan and Mom off the list... my obvious first choices.
It seems a little silly, but the whole thing sent me into a two-day crisis over my relationships, as I pondered the fact that I felt like no one really knew me. REALLY knew me. Was I so bad at relationships? I feel like I am a fairly transparent person. Did I just not let people in? I couldn't stop listening to a new favorite song by Don Chaffer, which probably didn't help. "And I don't see why I'm so lonely, but I've got a funny feeling that it's my fault. I've tried so hard, just to rise above it," he empathized with me.
I forgot about it with my busy week, but then the following week a friend who works at the church asked what I thought of the message. I unloaded on him. I started by telling him how I felt like the message was sort of incomplete, just to throw out there that people need to be asking their friends what they should change without any practical steps of how to go about that. But what about all that criteria? What about for all those people like me who didn't have friends who fit into that box? There wasn't a checklist of who I should or shouldn't ask. Who really knows me anyway? Am I that bad at relationships? The conversation got more personal as it went on.
And I received good counsel in return: not everyone was going to know every side of me. Maybe the challenge should have been put, ask two people in each area of my life who know me, love God, and aren't related to me.
It's OK that my mom-friends only know me as I relate to my kids. It's OK that some of my other friends never know that I feel like I spend half the time screaming at my children, the other half ignoring them, and end the day in tears. It's OK that my colleagues at work don't know that I have a horrible facebook addiction and a messy house. BUT, they still know valuable things about me, and may still have valuable insight into what I'm doing and how I'm doing it. So that shouldn't stop me from asking.
I was relieved to get over that hurdle. But was still left with another burning question: Why was I so lonely? I DO have a funny feeling that it's my fault. What is stopping me from pursuing my friends, so I can feel like any one of them really knows me well? I just don't know exactly, and none of my excuses seem like a really good reason. I often follow this cyclical pattern:
I don't want to call my friends with kids who are sitting at home--probably just as lonely as I am--because I am sick and tired of kids and I don't want them to come over with MORE kids and try to have a conversation above the noise and interruptions. The times we get away for a girl's night every couple months aren't enough to get past the small and dirty diaper talk.
So I call my old friends without kids, with whom I am comfortable and at ease. But people without kids have lives, plans. Who else could I call? Hanging out with new friends sounds like work. I am just so tired.
Bored, I "reach out" to my facebook "friends", with clever status updates or ridiculously cute pictures of my children. But every person who likes a picture and comments on a post isn't really my friend.... I wouldn't know their voice if they called me on the phone and didn't identify themselves. Oh, I don't like talking on the phone anyway.
Am I being too picky, to think that now that I am a mother, I might get to have some time with my friends away from my kids? To think that my friends might call ME sometime, instead of feeling like I am chasing them? We all functioned once without facebook, and I think without these artificial connections we were happier. But what would I do without at least SOME sort of connection throughout the day?
I was hesitant to broach this topic, wondering if there would be anyone who feels like they are closer to me than I am portraying. And that could be true, I tend to underestimate the depth of relationships sometimes. Many of you I truly do not know well at all. Maybe some of my closer friends will read this, maybe a complete stranger. But my guess is that a lot of you--especially you moms--will be nodding your heads in agreement.
There is much value in the casual friendships, in the acquaintances, but I can't help but feel I am missing something. So I ask you, "friends": Have you found a way to be a parent, a true friend, a whole person who is.... not lonely? I guess I haven't.
Monday, January 23, 2012
Friday, October 28, 2011
The First Trimester
I have so many unfinished blog posts from the last year. I started this post 3 months ago, but never finished it. Reading back on this post totally made me cry... I am so glad I am not sick anymore. I decided to just go ahead and put this one up the way it is:
October 28th, 2011
I am a bit of a blogging failure. It's been almost 6 months since my last post, but I'm going to go ahead and ignore that fact and carry on like it hasn't been so long since we've seen each other. Or, heard each other. Err, read each other. I guess I am not sure what to call it.
I am pregnant. There, I said it, not in some clever way or with some cute remarks. "There will be another Clancy soon", "Another one on the way", "The happy news!"... I am ready to punch myself in the face. I am 7 weeks and 2 days pregnant, although I haven't really been pregnant for 7 weeks and 2 days. I always thought it was weird that they start counting from before conception, at the time of your last period. Whatever.
The first trimester, two out of three times now, is what I can remember to be one of the hardest times in my life. I don't remember what it was like when I was pregnant with Finn, really. I remember Theresa dropping 3-month-old Caleb off at my house at 7:45, and I was always sleeping on the couch. Regan had been gone to work since 6, Ellie up since 5:30, and by 7:45 she was already down for a nap. Caleb would lay and play on the floor as long as he could stand it while I dozed, or cuddle up on the couch with me. I remember being desperate for a nap and thinking I was going to lose it when I couldn't get those babies to nap at the same time. I did my best to make it to work two days a week and try not to throw up while I was there. That is pretty much all I remember of that first trimester. But with Ellie, I remember vividly the aching loneliness, the completely blank and hollow feeling in my brain that I have now. I have nothing to talk about. I feel like I don't even think about anything. I am just tired, and nauseous, completely without motivation or inspiration or much emotion. I remember wanting to hang out with people, but not wanting to call them up because I felt like I was just such a bummer to be around. I worked full-time then and I had such a hard time making it to work, and always lost my breakfast once I got there.
Oh, the first trimester. Everyone knows in the back of their mind that you're pregnant, but without a kicking belly to show for it no one is really interested. So, I sit at home, nauseated, ready for bed but not wanting to go to bed; with nothing I feel like I have energy to do, nothing really to think about, just blank. 14 weeks will come, and I won't be sick anymore. But it's not just the morning sickness. It's actually having energy to do.... anything. To be.... someone.
October 28th, 2011
I am a bit of a blogging failure. It's been almost 6 months since my last post, but I'm going to go ahead and ignore that fact and carry on like it hasn't been so long since we've seen each other. Or, heard each other. Err, read each other. I guess I am not sure what to call it.
I am pregnant. There, I said it, not in some clever way or with some cute remarks. "There will be another Clancy soon", "Another one on the way", "The happy news!"... I am ready to punch myself in the face. I am 7 weeks and 2 days pregnant, although I haven't really been pregnant for 7 weeks and 2 days. I always thought it was weird that they start counting from before conception, at the time of your last period. Whatever.
The first trimester, two out of three times now, is what I can remember to be one of the hardest times in my life. I don't remember what it was like when I was pregnant with Finn, really. I remember Theresa dropping 3-month-old Caleb off at my house at 7:45, and I was always sleeping on the couch. Regan had been gone to work since 6, Ellie up since 5:30, and by 7:45 she was already down for a nap. Caleb would lay and play on the floor as long as he could stand it while I dozed, or cuddle up on the couch with me. I remember being desperate for a nap and thinking I was going to lose it when I couldn't get those babies to nap at the same time. I did my best to make it to work two days a week and try not to throw up while I was there. That is pretty much all I remember of that first trimester. But with Ellie, I remember vividly the aching loneliness, the completely blank and hollow feeling in my brain that I have now. I have nothing to talk about. I feel like I don't even think about anything. I am just tired, and nauseous, completely without motivation or inspiration or much emotion. I remember wanting to hang out with people, but not wanting to call them up because I felt like I was just such a bummer to be around. I worked full-time then and I had such a hard time making it to work, and always lost my breakfast once I got there.
Oh, the first trimester. Everyone knows in the back of their mind that you're pregnant, but without a kicking belly to show for it no one is really interested. So, I sit at home, nauseated, ready for bed but not wanting to go to bed; with nothing I feel like I have energy to do, nothing really to think about, just blank. 14 weeks will come, and I won't be sick anymore. But it's not just the morning sickness. It's actually having energy to do.... anything. To be.... someone.
Saturday, May 28, 2011
Well you know what they say about stress....
It'll kill you.
The statistics are shocking. Stress makes just about every ailment worse, and makes whole new ailments of its own. Read the symptoms .... it'll make you want to go meditate in a hot bath before you die of a heart attack or start blowing coke.
I was talking to a friend the other day who said something like "I've been surprised at how poorly I react [to stress]. I mean, I thought I'd be fine, that I'd handle it better." I found myself agreeing with him wholeheartedly.
Have you ever had those times in your life that feel so utterly out of control? Things have been so busy around here, and I've been left thinking "How did we even get here? When did we agree to all of this?" Obviously, the moment we got married, conceived our children, bought a house.... we agreed to a whole new level of responsibility. But when did we agree to goings-on every night, tag-teaming the kids and not talking for days because we just haven't seen each other, working so much, having so many friends to try and keep up with?
I thought I'd be fine, that I'd handle it better.
I was reading that stress is rooted in fear. So what is it that we're all afraid of? That we won't be able to do it all? That we're gonna lose our friends if we don't say yes to that dinner date? Don't get me wrong, I want to see you, I just don't want something going on Friday night when I had music practice Monday, went to bed early Tuesday, worked on Wednesday, caught up on dishes and laundry on Thursday.
I haven't yet figured out how to balance my mom and non-mom life. I am a very focused sort of person about a lot of things. I can't paint or read with the kids running around and interrupting me. I can't not feel guilty for plopping them in front of the TV just so I can do so. I think my number one fear in motherhood, which leads me to try to do it all, is that I will lose my identity. That I will become just "the mom". Not the artist, not the musician, not an educated and well-read person, not the entrepreneur, not the problem solver at whatever job I'm in. And there lies the root of most of my stress, I think, is that I am trying to be so many things, and do all the things that I love while being Mom. And I can't figure out how to do both of them and still get enough sleep to be a nice person. And I can't figure out how to care for myself and everyone else enough, so I either feel selfish or deprived.
I am still near the beginning of my journey towards finding balance. But, I've got a long life ahead of me.... If the stress doesn't kill me.
The statistics are shocking. Stress makes just about every ailment worse, and makes whole new ailments of its own. Read the symptoms .... it'll make you want to go meditate in a hot bath before you die of a heart attack or start blowing coke.
I was talking to a friend the other day who said something like "I've been surprised at how poorly I react [to stress]. I mean, I thought I'd be fine, that I'd handle it better." I found myself agreeing with him wholeheartedly.
Have you ever had those times in your life that feel so utterly out of control? Things have been so busy around here, and I've been left thinking "How did we even get here? When did we agree to all of this?" Obviously, the moment we got married, conceived our children, bought a house.... we agreed to a whole new level of responsibility. But when did we agree to goings-on every night, tag-teaming the kids and not talking for days because we just haven't seen each other, working so much, having so many friends to try and keep up with?
I thought I'd be fine, that I'd handle it better.
I was reading that stress is rooted in fear. So what is it that we're all afraid of? That we won't be able to do it all? That we're gonna lose our friends if we don't say yes to that dinner date? Don't get me wrong, I want to see you, I just don't want something going on Friday night when I had music practice Monday, went to bed early Tuesday, worked on Wednesday, caught up on dishes and laundry on Thursday.
I haven't yet figured out how to balance my mom and non-mom life. I am a very focused sort of person about a lot of things. I can't paint or read with the kids running around and interrupting me. I can't not feel guilty for plopping them in front of the TV just so I can do so. I think my number one fear in motherhood, which leads me to try to do it all, is that I will lose my identity. That I will become just "the mom". Not the artist, not the musician, not an educated and well-read person, not the entrepreneur, not the problem solver at whatever job I'm in. And there lies the root of most of my stress, I think, is that I am trying to be so many things, and do all the things that I love while being Mom. And I can't figure out how to do both of them and still get enough sleep to be a nice person. And I can't figure out how to care for myself and everyone else enough, so I either feel selfish or deprived.
I am still near the beginning of my journey towards finding balance. But, I've got a long life ahead of me.... If the stress doesn't kill me.
Saturday, May 21, 2011
These Are The Days
Today, the supposed end of the world, a particularly apocalyptic-themed song was stuck in my head. I only knew one line until I looked up the rest of the lyrics just now and had to chuckle at the irony. "These, these are the days that must happen to you" danced in and out of my head all day.
"These are the days...." I said to myself in a sigh of relief last week, when the sun was out and the kids played outside, when I was productive, patient, accessible. When the babies slept not like babies but more like logs and ate what I put in front of them. These are the days being a mother is so easy.
And "These are the days...." I thought to myself yesterday, when it rained all day, the toddlers were underfoot and vied for my attention, watched too many movies and ate too many crackers. I was tired, short-tempered, and feeling defeated. These are the days I think, "I cannot possibly have any more children". These are the days that feel a little like the end of the world.
They aren't. "Tomorrow is a new day with no mistakes in it yet".
I have been collecting thoughts all winter, and I'm excited to come out of hibernation and share them with you.
"These are the days...." I said to myself in a sigh of relief last week, when the sun was out and the kids played outside, when I was productive, patient, accessible. When the babies slept not like babies but more like logs and ate what I put in front of them. These are the days being a mother is so easy.
And "These are the days...." I thought to myself yesterday, when it rained all day, the toddlers were underfoot and vied for my attention, watched too many movies and ate too many crackers. I was tired, short-tempered, and feeling defeated. These are the days I think, "I cannot possibly have any more children". These are the days that feel a little like the end of the world.
They aren't. "Tomorrow is a new day with no mistakes in it yet".
I have been collecting thoughts all winter, and I'm excited to come out of hibernation and share them with you.
Monday, November 29, 2010
"You're so put together; I'm another planet"
For a few moments, I was feeling particularly inspired, as I sat here doing bookwork and listening to a lovely album. It seems to have come and gone. (Like that thing you remember you needed on the other side of the grocery store, and by the time you get there you can't for the life of you what it was. And you get home and realize, duh, you were out of hand soap.)
At the moment the only thing I remember passing through my mind is the topic of mom-guilt. My sister-in-law commented on Facebook about earning 3 points of mom-guilt for being on the internet instead of folding laundry, or something like that. Anyway, got me thinking about my day and why it was so crummy. I realized it was piled high with mom-guilt. Both the kids are sick, I am sick, and it was a long, awful day. Finn was whiny. He sneezed every 5 minutes, flinging green slime all over his mouth which he attempted to wipe away but just smeared into his hair, and cried every time I tried to wipe his nose (which of course was every 5 minutes). Ellie threw tantrums when I tried to (even gently) discipline her or get her dressed or get her to do anything besides watch movies (which I let her do lots today.... 10 points of mom-guilt right there.). Neither of them would eat anything I prepared for them. And 30 minutes later were hungry. I didn't have an appetite and was crabby because I was hungry. The cold weather and being cooped up inside has Ellie antsy and she got into more trouble than usual. I keep saying that I am going to plan some activities for the kids and I to do, to keep us busy this winter, but my days have been more like damage control because those antsy children are making bigger messes than usual, I have been busier than usual, and the house isn't messier than usual but I am trying to keep it clean more than usual. I feel like I spend half the day hollering at the kids (25 points of mom guilt), a quarter of the day cleaning (5 points of mom guilt, because I feel like I am ignoring the kids), and the other quarter slumped into a pile on the couch, zoning out, doing whatever on the computer, and praying that Daddy will be home early (15 more points of mom-guilt). When he does get home, I feel the need to be crabby and express my amount of distress over how crazy the children were, attempting to soothe my guilt over the whole day by trying to make him understand that I really DID do something today.... I think... and the kids were just SO crabby.... and I am SO tired....
Please, hold all the "don't feel guilty" and "you can't do everything" comments. This isn't all my days. Most of the mom-guilt comes from the fact that I know I can, and should, do better. It's OK to have "one of those days" but when "those days" start to happen more frequently than the "good days" we know there's a problem. My mom-guilt justification is fed by the fact that many of my other mom-friends are telling me they feel the exact same way. Regan (rightly) says that I let the kids get to me too much. In my last post I wrote about feeling so defeated sometimes by them, how I feel like I never get a step ahead, or I wake up with energy and motivated, and it is so quickly sucked out of me.
A beloved Rilo Kiley lyric rings through my head: "You say I choose sadness, that it never once had chosen me. Maybe you're right." or Don Chaffer "You're addicted to your sadness, it creates the touch of madness: the kind you like inside your veins." Replace "sadness" with crabby/guilty/defensive/stressed out mom and I'd say that's me. So I am trying to figure out how to fix it, how to give myself one big attitude adjustment, enjoy these days with my kids, balance the chores and the quality time. I need a day I can feel good about. Where I can say I did what I could, spent good time with the kids, and we were all better for it. I feel like those days they are harder to come by in the winter, but not impossible. This is a new phase of momhood that I am entering with (almost) two (sometimes three) toddlers on my hands. I am rather ill-prepared. Suggestions appreciated.
-- A quick note that the title quote is from Amy Seeley's new album, "Plum Coulee", coming out tomorrow. My brother Ryan, with a little help from Regan, recorded and produced the album. It has been serenading me this evening. You should own it.
At the moment the only thing I remember passing through my mind is the topic of mom-guilt. My sister-in-law commented on Facebook about earning 3 points of mom-guilt for being on the internet instead of folding laundry, or something like that. Anyway, got me thinking about my day and why it was so crummy. I realized it was piled high with mom-guilt. Both the kids are sick, I am sick, and it was a long, awful day. Finn was whiny. He sneezed every 5 minutes, flinging green slime all over his mouth which he attempted to wipe away but just smeared into his hair, and cried every time I tried to wipe his nose (which of course was every 5 minutes). Ellie threw tantrums when I tried to (even gently) discipline her or get her dressed or get her to do anything besides watch movies (which I let her do lots today.... 10 points of mom-guilt right there.). Neither of them would eat anything I prepared for them. And 30 minutes later were hungry. I didn't have an appetite and was crabby because I was hungry. The cold weather and being cooped up inside has Ellie antsy and she got into more trouble than usual. I keep saying that I am going to plan some activities for the kids and I to do, to keep us busy this winter, but my days have been more like damage control because those antsy children are making bigger messes than usual, I have been busier than usual, and the house isn't messier than usual but I am trying to keep it clean more than usual. I feel like I spend half the day hollering at the kids (25 points of mom guilt), a quarter of the day cleaning (5 points of mom guilt, because I feel like I am ignoring the kids), and the other quarter slumped into a pile on the couch, zoning out, doing whatever on the computer, and praying that Daddy will be home early (15 more points of mom-guilt). When he does get home, I feel the need to be crabby and express my amount of distress over how crazy the children were, attempting to soothe my guilt over the whole day by trying to make him understand that I really DID do something today.... I think... and the kids were just SO crabby.... and I am SO tired....
Please, hold all the "don't feel guilty" and "you can't do everything" comments. This isn't all my days. Most of the mom-guilt comes from the fact that I know I can, and should, do better. It's OK to have "one of those days" but when "those days" start to happen more frequently than the "good days" we know there's a problem. My mom-guilt justification is fed by the fact that many of my other mom-friends are telling me they feel the exact same way. Regan (rightly) says that I let the kids get to me too much. In my last post I wrote about feeling so defeated sometimes by them, how I feel like I never get a step ahead, or I wake up with energy and motivated, and it is so quickly sucked out of me.
A beloved Rilo Kiley lyric rings through my head: "You say I choose sadness, that it never once had chosen me. Maybe you're right." or Don Chaffer "You're addicted to your sadness, it creates the touch of madness: the kind you like inside your veins." Replace "sadness" with crabby/guilty/defensive/stressed out mom and I'd say that's me. So I am trying to figure out how to fix it, how to give myself one big attitude adjustment, enjoy these days with my kids, balance the chores and the quality time. I need a day I can feel good about. Where I can say I did what I could, spent good time with the kids, and we were all better for it. I feel like those days they are harder to come by in the winter, but not impossible. This is a new phase of momhood that I am entering with (almost) two (sometimes three) toddlers on my hands. I am rather ill-prepared. Suggestions appreciated.
-- A quick note that the title quote is from Amy Seeley's new album, "Plum Coulee", coming out tomorrow. My brother Ryan, with a little help from Regan, recorded and produced the album. It has been serenading me this evening. You should own it.
Thursday, November 4, 2010
Autumn
Fall has always been my favorite season. I am really not a hot-weather person. I melt in the heat. I get crabby. So, fall comes, like a breath of fresh air, reviving my soul after August has sucked the life out of it. I want to buy school supplies, I get out all my sweaters, and I suddenly feel like I could conquer the world.
This year has been unusual, though. Summer in Helena was more than just bearable, it was downright lovely.... with lots of rain to keep things green, temperatures rarely over 90, and two toddlers who I could shoo out the door most of the day to explore the back yard, splash in their pool, and stay out of my hair! Fall came late, and as it approached I found myself apprehensive, dreading the long winter that I knew would be following it. Isn't that just how we are, not enjoying the beauty we have at hand because we are anticipating what is next, whether bad or good. But, God has been gracious, and Fall has lasted long this year, and I am finally relishing in it's loveliness. Buying a new sweater or two has definitely helped get me in the spirit. And, maybe a couple of hats. And a scarf. OK, that's all.
I have not written a blog in so long because I feel like every time I have tried I have just been complaining. I have been so busy, working lots extra and just trying to keep up with life in general. Finn has been teething, then sick. I have been doing a little better on keeping up with house work. So, what else is there to talk about? I cannot deny that lately, at times, I feel so defeated. I feel defeated by the pile of laundry I can never catch up, by the kids destroying the house I just cleaned, by the pile of bills I need to sit down and pay. Thankfully we always have money to pay them, but bookkeeping is what I do for a living and therefore I never want to do it for myself. Usually there is more of feeling alternately defeated and inspired, especially in the fall, but I have had a hard time finding inspiration. I am just so darn tired.
Today felt like practically the best day in my life, however. The kid's cold has been threatening to catch me;, working way too much and sleeping way too little have been wearing on me. So, I dropped the kids off at Theresa's, called in to work, went home and slept most of the day, ran errands, and then picked up the kids and enjoyed the rest of the evening with them and Regan. Oh, how much I needed that.
I still don't know what to say, how to not sound like I'm complaining. So, I will end with this: Thank you God for this beautiful weather, for providing us with everything we need, for my wonderful and flexible job, and for great friends who take care of our children. And for the great new hats and sweater I found at awesome prices.
Amen.
This year has been unusual, though. Summer in Helena was more than just bearable, it was downright lovely.... with lots of rain to keep things green, temperatures rarely over 90, and two toddlers who I could shoo out the door most of the day to explore the back yard, splash in their pool, and stay out of my hair! Fall came late, and as it approached I found myself apprehensive, dreading the long winter that I knew would be following it. Isn't that just how we are, not enjoying the beauty we have at hand because we are anticipating what is next, whether bad or good. But, God has been gracious, and Fall has lasted long this year, and I am finally relishing in it's loveliness. Buying a new sweater or two has definitely helped get me in the spirit. And, maybe a couple of hats. And a scarf. OK, that's all.
I have not written a blog in so long because I feel like every time I have tried I have just been complaining. I have been so busy, working lots extra and just trying to keep up with life in general. Finn has been teething, then sick. I have been doing a little better on keeping up with house work. So, what else is there to talk about? I cannot deny that lately, at times, I feel so defeated. I feel defeated by the pile of laundry I can never catch up, by the kids destroying the house I just cleaned, by the pile of bills I need to sit down and pay. Thankfully we always have money to pay them, but bookkeeping is what I do for a living and therefore I never want to do it for myself. Usually there is more of feeling alternately defeated and inspired, especially in the fall, but I have had a hard time finding inspiration. I am just so darn tired.
Today felt like practically the best day in my life, however. The kid's cold has been threatening to catch me;, working way too much and sleeping way too little have been wearing on me. So, I dropped the kids off at Theresa's, called in to work, went home and slept most of the day, ran errands, and then picked up the kids and enjoyed the rest of the evening with them and Regan. Oh, how much I needed that.
I still don't know what to say, how to not sound like I'm complaining. So, I will end with this: Thank you God for this beautiful weather, for providing us with everything we need, for my wonderful and flexible job, and for great friends who take care of our children. And for the great new hats and sweater I found at awesome prices.
Amen.
Tuesday, August 17, 2010
A month has escaped me.
I try to recall what has happened the last month, but I am really not sure about the details. It's a blur. As a I logged onto Blogger last night, ignoring my disaster house and responsibilities, determined to write, I was shocked and appalled to discover it has been a month since my last real post. I knew it had been a while, maybe a couple weeks, but a MONTH?!? WTF??!?! (Yeah, there's some classy English language at work.) I didn't get to write. I couldn't get the babies to sleep, I talked to my mom on the phone, and then Regan was home, and the night had escaped me.
Most recently, there has been a lot happening that has been pressing hard on my mind and heart. I'm reminded of the movie United States of Leland, where (spoiler alert!) a sweet teenage boy is so intensely overwhelmed by the sadness that surrounds him in the world he feels compelled to end the life of his girlfriend's mentally disabled little brother, "to set him free", "because he seemed so sad". Don't worry, I'm not saying that I am going to go kill a retarded kid. I am saying that I have felt so completely overwhelmed by the things going on around me, and maybe understand how it can make you a little crazy, make you lose perspective.
Ellie is deeply affected by things that are sad, or if someone is hurt. If a character in one of her books looks sad, she finds it over and over, stares at with a concerned look, and says "he's sad, Momma." "Why is he sad?" "He's crying, Momma." I try to divert her. I said something to Regan about a friend being sick and Ellie talked about it for a month after she heard that one conversation. I was perplexed at first where this intensity came from. Until I realized she got it from me.
I have always had a really hard time watching intense movies, or reading about social injustice, sickness, genocide, wars, scandals. I couldn't handle Eternal Sunshine of The Spotless Mind because it made me feel crazy--like I was going to go crazy. I hate scary movies, or ones that involve infidelity. It leaves my heart so heavy.
I generally avoid this by just not letting a lot of things hit home: Not reading much news, being careful what kind of movies I watch or books I read. This week a lot of things have hit much too close to home. Relationships of dear friends dissolving, people I care about struggling in addictions, an acquaintance's 5-year-old daughter passing away after a rigorous, year-long battle with cancer. Friends and family without jobs. I have returned 3 times to the blog entry relating the loss of the above mentioned 5-year-old's family. Reading again about her 8-year-old older brother saying, "I can't be a brother without a sister." And I can't fight back the tears, and I go check on my babies as they sleep, and kiss them both, and pray that God keep them safe.
We have been so incredibly busy this last month, I literally have not had the time--or if I have had the time, not the mental energy--to post anything and sort through some of my thoughts. There have been lots of positives: Regan has been around more, my babies have been learning and growing like crazy (and are so sweet), we have been having fun as a little family. And, although the schedule has been rigorous, we have been enjoying being more involved at church and working on things together. But, "something's gotta give", Regan and I agreed as we, again ignoring our messy house, sat on the porch last night drinking a glass of wine and enjoying the responsibility of spending some time together, talking.
So, we continue on our quest for balance. As we sat, and drank, and got chilly as night fell, we discussed trying to find the balance between regular life and ministry, between giving and receiving, between working hard and relaxing. Lately it has been a pendulum, and it needs to stop swinging at such an alarming speed. And I search for the balance between sharing each other's burdens, and letting things go. Caring, perhaps, without being so overwhelmed by the ache I feel in my heart for those hurting around me.
My God, be with us all.
Most recently, there has been a lot happening that has been pressing hard on my mind and heart. I'm reminded of the movie United States of Leland, where (spoiler alert!) a sweet teenage boy is so intensely overwhelmed by the sadness that surrounds him in the world he feels compelled to end the life of his girlfriend's mentally disabled little brother, "to set him free", "because he seemed so sad". Don't worry, I'm not saying that I am going to go kill a retarded kid. I am saying that I have felt so completely overwhelmed by the things going on around me, and maybe understand how it can make you a little crazy, make you lose perspective.
Ellie is deeply affected by things that are sad, or if someone is hurt. If a character in one of her books looks sad, she finds it over and over, stares at with a concerned look, and says "he's sad, Momma." "Why is he sad?" "He's crying, Momma." I try to divert her. I said something to Regan about a friend being sick and Ellie talked about it for a month after she heard that one conversation. I was perplexed at first where this intensity came from. Until I realized she got it from me.
I have always had a really hard time watching intense movies, or reading about social injustice, sickness, genocide, wars, scandals. I couldn't handle Eternal Sunshine of The Spotless Mind because it made me feel crazy--like I was going to go crazy. I hate scary movies, or ones that involve infidelity. It leaves my heart so heavy.
I generally avoid this by just not letting a lot of things hit home: Not reading much news, being careful what kind of movies I watch or books I read. This week a lot of things have hit much too close to home. Relationships of dear friends dissolving, people I care about struggling in addictions, an acquaintance's 5-year-old daughter passing away after a rigorous, year-long battle with cancer. Friends and family without jobs. I have returned 3 times to the blog entry relating the loss of the above mentioned 5-year-old's family. Reading again about her 8-year-old older brother saying, "I can't be a brother without a sister." And I can't fight back the tears, and I go check on my babies as they sleep, and kiss them both, and pray that God keep them safe.
We have been so incredibly busy this last month, I literally have not had the time--or if I have had the time, not the mental energy--to post anything and sort through some of my thoughts. There have been lots of positives: Regan has been around more, my babies have been learning and growing like crazy (and are so sweet), we have been having fun as a little family. And, although the schedule has been rigorous, we have been enjoying being more involved at church and working on things together. But, "something's gotta give", Regan and I agreed as we, again ignoring our messy house, sat on the porch last night drinking a glass of wine and enjoying the responsibility of spending some time together, talking.
So, we continue on our quest for balance. As we sat, and drank, and got chilly as night fell, we discussed trying to find the balance between regular life and ministry, between giving and receiving, between working hard and relaxing. Lately it has been a pendulum, and it needs to stop swinging at such an alarming speed. And I search for the balance between sharing each other's burdens, and letting things go. Caring, perhaps, without being so overwhelmed by the ache I feel in my heart for those hurting around me.
My God, be with us all.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)