life lately

Here it is, already, the last week of June. Both my brothers were in town over the last ten days or so; one of them and my sister-in-law returned home last night; the other one leaves in August. Brett's parents drove in over the weekend, so the visit from my family and their visit overlapped, which was a little unfortunate, but thankfully I did get to see my family a little the weekend before. There is never enough time, is there? One can definitely experience those downer feelings of I didn't have enough time. I didn't ask enough questions. I didn't have enough quality conversations. I didn't convey some thought or emotion I wanted to convey to this person before they left. Life on this earth is so rushed and brief. We're so darn busy, but we think I'll see so and so on such a date and we can catch up on everything in the world, but we all know that that rarely pans out. I sort of don't even expect quality time anymore, but rather strive for quantity of time. And the more quantity you have, the better chance of the quality time emerging organically. But then there is never enough of the quantity. Conundrum. At least I can strive for the quantity portion with my husband and daughters and, more recently, my sister and my mom and my brother, sister-in-law, and niece who are here for the summer. Not every minute has to be filled with stimulating conversation and amazing moments--the mere being in the presence of others you love can create an environment where memories are created.

The dark cloud has settled in over me the last year or so, and I find myself withdrawing from the world. There are moments of joy and relief here and there, and that is what gets me through the expanse of nothingness, but for the most part, I vacillate between numbness and then deep sadness. Even with consistent exercise, which has strengthened me physically, I feel a tiredness that seeps into my bones. It's hard for me to feel genuinely excited about anything, and everything has a layer of melancholy. I find myself feeling a little fascinated by this outlook on life, analyzing these thoughts and emotions, yet leaves me a bit discouraged with the knowledge that this is my personal makeup. I resign myself to the fact that this is the biological cards I've been dealt. Yes, I know I'm more than my depression, but...lost train of thought.

My kids and domestic obligations keep me going. I can't check out because people depend on me. The same was true when I dealt with my dark demons before kids. I had to get out of bed and go to work because I didn't want to lose my job. Now I get out of bed because a little face is right beside me asking for cereal. Someone needs to put the girl's eye patch on her for two hours a day, to encourage her to just take it one day at a time so that we can strengthen her weak eye. As I listen to this 34-year-old mom tell her daughter softly that sometimes all we can do is take one day at a time, I realize that person is me and that I need to take my own advice. 

I wish I could shut out the news of the day with its horror and fear. I wish I could ignore the play date requests and obligations that sap my strength, but I also know I should accept them and push through. My best days are when we stay home and don't have to venture out. We read books, color, do art projects; I fold laundry and vacuum and, if I'm lucky, have a novel to read. Lately my brain can only handle the brevity of a devotional and a passage of the Bible. I pause to listen to the girls' storylines unfold as they play with dolls. You try to freeze the happy emotion right there--to hold onto it as long as you can, but you know that moment will be over as soon as it was born. One minute she's a newborn gazing into my eyes, the next she's a kindergarten-bound kid. Some people feel a little sad about their kids growing up; some parents feel mostly excitement; I feel mostly deep sadness akin to grief. I try to appear happy and strong when I tell her how fun and exciting kindergarten will be, and I know in my heart that she will do great, and we'll get through this life change and transition just fine as we have all the other transitions.

I'm tired of feeling sad and watching my kids grow up too fast, but as Ann Voskamp wrote: "Don't grieve that it's gone, wonder that it was. Inhale that it happened  - and it was grace." I have decided to view every single moment with my girls as a beautiful gift. I always tell Stella: "I love you when you're good. I love you when you're naughty. I love you when you're sad." I don't want her to ever think she has to earn my love. SHE is the gift. Not what she does. The fact that I ever got to love a child in the first place blows my mind. I wonder at the gift. Wonder that I got to see my out-of-town brothers and sisters-in-law. Wonder that I get to see my parents every week. Wonder that I get to see my sister and nephew every week. Wonder that I can get out of bed every morning thus far. Wonder that my husband has a job that pays the bills. Wonder that I get to stay home with my kids. Wonder that I can break up the girls' fights and guide them through it. Wonder that I can help my elder daughter prepare for kindergarten. Wonder that I can help the younger one get dressed every day. Step by step. One day at a time. All I have needed his hand has provided. Strength for today and bright hope for tomorrow.