I am tired.
I feel like my bones are filled with lead.
Do you remember when you were in college and the end of the semester was a wild rush and you studied worked wrote studied more took exams and then, after the last class, you went home and collapsed for a month? All that pressure kept your running running running and then all in a moment, it was gone, like air out of a balloon and you landed, deflated.
Carter has been on a steady upward trajectory for a couple of months, but just in the past two weeks, I’ve begun to settle into it a little bit. I’ve realized that we really are in a new place, have found stability that could last awhile.
(Should the universe see fit to allow that and for which we will be endlessly and enormously grateful please don’t smite I am not testing I do not expect this I know I am not powerful I will be happy to beg if necessary thank you for your kind consideration of my plea for continued quiet for my little boy.)
There is some part of me that is almost frantic to get as much normal living in as I can while I have the chance, to catch up and rebuild and recover what we can of the last twenty months. I want to renew my marriage, clean the house, spend time with Jacob and Abbie, deal with the horrendous yards (Oh, my God, the weeds are taking over the world!), finish my book proposal, get some more exercise, shrink my to-be-read stack of books……
While I’m at it, I’ll probably fly to the moon under my own power. Because that’s about as reasonable as the rest of the list.
In some ways, crises are easier than ordinary life. When there is an emergency in front of me, I don’t stand around trying to decide what to do; I deal with the emergency. Ordinary life, though, requires me to do more than manage the most pressing thing. I have to decide.
People? There is a great deal to be done. We’ve neglected so much while Carter has been acutely ill, I don’t know where to begin.
Sigh. And I’ll be honest (but I don’t wanna!); having a kid with a disability that makes our lives utterly chaotic has some benefits. Those benefits are excuses and I’m almost unbearably ashamed to admit that I’ve come to rely on them. Sometimes I can’t cook dinner; sometimes we can’t make it to church; sometimes maintaining house and yard is more than we can manage.
But also? I hate to cook. I love our church, but I want to sleep in on Sunday mornings (Plus, when you get out of the habit of doing something like that? It’s really hard to get back to it.). And house and yard work? Bleh.
What IF:* I lived my life and gave myself permission to take time to heal? What if I took all the pressure off and just……rested? What if I stopped listening to all the shoulds that are banging so noisily in my head? What if I gave myself a break?
What if I had a little faith in myself?