Things I Keep Inside

There are times I write because I need to and if you're not a writer, then you won't understand that. You may run because you need to; or shop because you need to; or eat that pan of brownies because you need to... okay, so we can all fall into more than one category on that one. Running? Not guilty. Everything else? Yes, yes, and yes. At any rate, there are times when I am so burdened, the only way out is to write. Yes, I keep a journal hidden by my bed, but that journal (spoiler alert!) is mostly empty. I don't know why I put things out there the way I do. I know I'm nothing special. I know it's not all about me. But I do know that I'm not alone in the things I struggle with. I'm a Christian, a daughter, a sister, a wife, a mom, a friend, a lover of cats. Shoot. If all that isn't enough ammunition for trouble then I don't know what would be. You don't know how many times I have written things here only to delete it as soon as the whole thing is close enough to grammatically perfect as it can be.

What will people think? My mom will worry. They'll really figure out I'm crazy.

Yeah... well, whatever (to use a grossly overused word of the last decade).

So, I guess I share because I know I'm not alone. Maybe you can relate. Maybe you can lie and say that you don't. Maybe you're a twenty-five year gigolo from Singapore who has no idea how he ended up on this website (bad example, I know). Whatever your thoughts, please know that I'm not looking for advice or sympathy or a number for the therapist who did wonders for your sister in-law.

I'm just being me.

And this is how I feel today.

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I am overwhelmed.

My heart aches. It is too much to bear.

I am overwhelmed.

There's a physical pressure bearing down on me. If I sit still, my heart heaves up the sobs from within. If I move around, things get done but they're done in a fog. I'm really not sure what room I'm cleaning or why I'm there. I prepare a feast just to know that I've done something worthwhile.

We are drowning, the husband and I. Love does not conquer all; it certainly does not pay the bills. It does endure, however... that it does. We may be sinking, but we sink as one. There's a tragic Titanic-laced reference in that, I'm sure. We huddle together as the flood rushes in.

He looked at me today and simply said, "I wish we could just go back to what was normal." Then he dipped his head and kept the tears at bay. I know what he means. Five- no, six years ago, our lives were normal. He had his career; I had mine. We had the little white house minus the picket fence. Our biggest financial worry was a forty-thousand dollar mortgage.

And that's enough personal information.

Are we alone? Of course not. I stood at my dining room window today and looked out over a barren, January-drab landscape and told the Lord it was too much to bear. I wondered how many other haggard women and weary men and young people and old people have spoken those same words today. I wonder how many have simply given up.

The sun will surely rise tomorrow. Even now, a faint whisper of a flame struggles to break free of the smothering blanket that has rested upon my stubborn spirit this eighth day of January. This is why I write. And this why I prefaced this rather depressing glimpse into my life the way I did. It's not for everyone, but it is for someone. I'll hang in there if you will. The Lord tied that knot in the rope just for people like us. I have resolved to hang onto that knot until He pulls us out of this mess, but that doesn't mean I won't cry while I write sometimes.

Or eat brownies.



Hey... we all have our ways of dealing with life, remember?