It is what it is.
I had this post all typed out and ready to go yesterday evening. And I was feeling all kinds of insecure so I didn’t post it. But this morning I felt the urge to go ahead. Because I can.
I don’t even know why I blog sometimes. Writing just is healing for my soul. And sometimes I hear it encourages others. So I don’t know guys. Honestly, I’m just trying to make it through this life like everyone else.
The last couple of days my brain has felt so full. So many thoughts. Thoughts that even betray me. And it can be exhausting to fight them. And I feel confused. And I fear becoming the person who only talks about hard times. And that I’ll be annoying. And people won’t like me. But does pleasing people really need to matter so much? Do I need to always be so hard on myself? Can I show myself some grace?
Right now, I feel pretty good. So I’ll go ahead with it.
I have music playing and outside my front door I can hear the commotion. Greg had warned me. He thought it happened on Memorial Day weekend. He told me to park in the back because of the parade.
When he left this morning I had forgotten about it. Meg was lying next to me and she sat up quickly at the sounds of the sirens. I reached down to pet her. She’s nearly deaf and doesn’t hear much. Some noises make her unsettled.
As the sirens continued it slowly dawned on me. The parade. I recognized the sound of voices. People. I could see them just barely through the distortions in the glass window on my front door.
I don’t even want to write anymore this morning. I wanted to do a blog post, but I feel my composure slipping like water through my fingers. I keep my head above water. But that sinking feeling takes my breath away. I remember what it feels like to almost drown. I also remember what it feels like to be rescued from the depths. Being lifted out from no strength of my own. You can’t save yourself when you are drowning…
Now I don’t fall as hard, as fast, or for as long. I cling to that.
I peeked out the window to see fire trucks and kids. Candy and laughter.
My doggies stood behind me. My kitty paced from window to window trying to be nosy.
We retreated to the sitting room. Close to the door, but far from the action.
Sitting amidst the mess. In an unfinished house. The floor I hadn’t vacuumed since I moved in. Dog hair everywhere. The majority of my things still in boxes. Trapped in my mess.
I felt the familiar twinge of sadness.
Always feeling on the outside. Trapped on the inside. Able to observe the fun. Unable to experience it. Waves of anxiety and regret to keep me company.
And that’s not always the case. I have good times. I have memories to treasure. Moments of fears conquered. Times of peace and contentment. Being able to be fully in the moment.
Riding on the Ferris wheel in Tennessee with my husband on our honeymoon. Fighting to do something new and exciting. Enjoying holding his hand and looking over the lights of the city at night.
Eating ice cream. Trying new flavors for days. Sweet tea. Oatmeal Cream Pie. Biscuits and Honey. Bear Paw. Coffee shop. So much deliciousness.
I’m not always on the outside. I’m not always feeling desperate and miserable and left out. But it can sure feel that way in the moment.
Sometimes I get tired of writing about the hard times. Sometimes I get tired of living them.
But it's just where I am.
Unbelievably happy. Still living the hard days.
Thankful for more good things than I ever thought to have. Feeling ungrateful when I still struggle.
I can be so happy in the presence of people. I can be filled with anxiety and barely able to breathe in crowds.
I am so thankful to be married. I fight the nearly constant feeling of failing and not being good enough.
I am able to participate in more experiences than I ever could have even hoped to. I miss out on so many wonderful things because of anxiety and depression.
I don't always make sense. I feel the pull of being in two different extremes.
I write too many words.
I have no idea what I am doing.
Today was a hard day. There were challenges. Moments missed. Times of feeling so weighed down I didn't want to move. Thoughts raced and tried to take me out. It's exhausting trying to keep your head straight.
But I'm making it. I am where I am. I'm trying. I'm changing. I'm maturing and learning and healing. And I'm happy. And I'm sad. It is possible to be both.
I whispered to Greg today that I was sorry for being crazy. He laughed and told me I was a woman. We're all crazy. Men know this to be true. He still loves me.
I'm lucky to have a man who has humor that suits me.
I go back to our honeymoon. I let my mind wander in the tranquil moments.
As the day winds down I feel some things settling. My evening is far from over and I still have work to do. Some tasks to accomplish before bed. But I feel okay.
It is what it is.
This life isn't just all or nothing. Black or white. One or the other.
It is all of the things.