I know that God is here. I know it.
I was driving around praying yesterday. The girls were in the back of my car alternating between singing to “Silly Songs with Larry” and fighting. Matt was at work. I realized that I had taken on a victim mentality. I needed to step out of my mood. I needed to step away from the negative thoughts. I needed to step into self-care and own my emotions.
I was wasting time on social media and came across a post that a friend reshared from someone they follow. It was a rock in the middle of a pond or lake. It looked really weird and my brain couldn’t make sense of what I was seeing. There was a caption about how things aren’t always what they seem and directed the viewer to turn their phone around. The image made sense. It was all about perspective. I think I lost mine.
A few years ago (okay, it was probably eight or nine), someone told me that I lived in a fairytale. I was traveling to China and Taiwan for work two to three times a year, Matt and I didn’t have our daughters yet so we had extra time (and funds), and life was just easy. I’m sure there were struggles but it feels like our newlywed period lasted about seven years which is when our oldest daughter also happened to come onto the scene (it’s amazing how tables turn when a kid is on the scene.)
Three years ago we had just moved into a new house. In my mind, that is when things started to trend in a way I wasn’t as familiar with—downward. Since then, it’s been a never-ending river with little waterfalls, swimming upstream, and a few periods of floating. They always say memories are better than the reality (or something like that) and I get it. I feel like before we moved, we always had enough money, we went on vacations, the girls were babies so they hadn’t learned to fight yet, and life was just easy. I clearly remember standing in my office at work and feeling like I had God’s favor. What I did, worked. I remember asking God, “Please help this to not go away. I feel spoiled. I don’t want the tides to turn.”
These last two years have been a haul. If you look at the one of those lists of top stressful things, I can tick a lot of boxes: my grandma passed away, G was diagnosed with sensory processing disorder, both girls started a new level of school for them, money was tight, work was stressful, I changed my role at work a few times, we moved, and Matt started a new job. I think that’s enough, don’t you?
I’ve been in a funk these last two months. A variety of things have left me feeling like adulting was hard and I was tired of feeling like the world was resting on my shoulders. Why was life so easy for so long? When will it get easy again? Why does it feel like these last two years have been more struggle than happiness? I know that’s not true. The bad always seems to outweighs the good, doesn’t it?
As a wife and mother, I always put myself last. I want to be a servant-leader at work, loving mother, and ideal wife but what if I’m so cranky because I don’t feel like anyone is taking care of me? That’s why it’s been about a month between blogs. I’ve needed to go to bed and read after getting kids to bed and prepping for the next day.
The last few years I’ve chosen a word for my year. This year, I was asked and just said, “step out.” I have some lofty dreams and attainable goals. I’ve let myself get in my way and that’s stopping. I know it sounds all January 1 and resolution-like but I’ve literally spent the last four years working on the same goal. That is way too long on something that is attainable and can only work for the good of my family. I’ve had the same dream since I was eight or nine that I’ve stepped in and out of throughout my life. Time to step out in faith and see what happens. Bring it 2019. I’m ready. (Please be a good kind of bring it, not a bad kind…) I’m going to keep some perspective and look at things from a different angle.
Photo at top by Fabien Butazzi on Unsplash