Dear God

Dear God,
Let me preface this with something. I was raised catholic. Until I grew up and began questioning things, I was a dedicated one too. I drifted away from that though, and my belief in you, in an established religious sort of way, has been…..well, lukewarm at best. To be blunt, I’ve found it difficult to believe you are out there in the cosmos watching over us all.
There have been too many bad things in my life to go through it unfazed. I have faultered. Strayed. Walked away in an epic tantrum. Who could blame me? If you are real, then you took the most important person in my life, made her suffer, then killed her. For your higher purpose. You left me ill-equipped to handle the gongshow you handed me and without the life lessons my mom would have given me if you hadn’t so nicely placed a golf ball sized tumor in her BRAIN. But whatever.
The point is, I’m not sure if you are out there. I’m not sure if you are a passive observer, or a neglectful parent, or if there is nothing out there higher or bigger than us lowly mortals.
BUT. I believe I need to raise my kids with some kind of faith based value system. What they choose is up to them. I want to expose them to more than just Christianity (sorry) and let them make educated decisions. But my five year old is searching. On his own he has gravitated to you, and is asking questions.
I have a few. Here’s one. 18 children murdered in their school. Really? You had NO pull there? None? You made that man broken!! What do I do with that? How do I resolve that for my boy? Is he safe to go to school? Can I trust in you to protect all that keeps me breathing these days? Can he trust that he is safe?
How do I answer his questions? How do I find the comfort he seeks?
I don’t know what to do. He is a boy. A baby. Smarter than he should be, but still such a boy.

If I am to have faith in you, I need to stop needing proof.
But everything lately seems to want to prove that you aren’t there.
And he needs you to be there.

Rough day

I was having such a good morning. Got up with two happy kids, got them off to their respective classes and did a spin class. And I didn’t barf after. That’s frickin progress my friend! I came home, quick chat with my best buddy, showered, I even did my hair!!!! That’s a big deal for me!
This afternoon I met with a woman from shared mental health who I was referred to by my family doctor. It’s all part of my action plan to get my life back. I am a firm believer in talk therapy, but it’s difficult to talk about myself in any situation that isn’t a potential comedy stage so I’m struggling.
Anyway, while my cute little seven question assessment form says I’m on the low end of the jump off a bridge scale, by the end of it I was/am seriously questioning if I’m really ready to delve into the dark stuff. I don’t want to make tough decisions. I don’t know that I can fix it all, and I worry that any changes I make will be moot if I can’t fix everything.
I’m seriously worrying about the idea that if I can’t fix me, I won’t be able to fix my marriage, and sometimes, of only once in a while, I wonder if I even want to.
I was having such a great day…

That old familiar feeling

“It’s funny how that old familiar feeling we so easily slip back into isn’t always a good one. Comfort doesn’t necessarily mean safety, or positivity, or health-it’s just easy.”

Usually when someone thinks of a familiar feeling, they’re stuck in the middle of a country love song. Arms being wrapped around you, sweet feelings of romance blah blah blah. Normally I love these songs. Not so much lately. MY old familiar feeling is darker than that. It’s sadder than that. It certainly seems to be doing more damage. My poor kids. How awful to realize your quiet demon is hurting your babies. The slow detachment from your life-and the things you love the most-is suddenly brought into focus in yet another harsh moment when you could have used kindness, but instead got mad. I never wanted to be a “yeller”. I didn’t want to be a crier either. But I spend more nights than is comfortably admitted drowning out my sobs while the bath water runs and when the tub is full crying so hard no air comes out. this is no life for me. For anyone. I want more. I have been responsible for a good portion of the deterioration of my marriage, the reactions in my children, and I am fully responsible for my physical well being and the lack of care for it.
Tomorrow I’m asking for help. Again. But they will listen this time. I will make myself heard. I want to be better more than I want this black hole I’m in. The tug of war going on inside me is exhausting.
One of the smartest women i know once posted something about how you should never assume the smile you see isn’t hiding a battle going on inside. You don’t know what’s going on behind people’s eyes. We are masters of our disguises. Please find some compassion for the person on the street who greets you, and says hello or smiles and nods your way. It could have taken a lot of effort, and you could be the one who shows them there is life on this planet after all.
My mom had cancer and an episode I had this weekend that ended me in the ER rings eerily true to hers. Off I go tomorrow to rule out what my family is so scared of. I know I don’t have a brain tumor. I just need to prove to them. History won’t repeat here. Not in my body-not in my life.