I broke my back.

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Or, my back broke me. Actually, it’s not really broken, but something is happening back there. Is a pinched nerve a real thing? Because that’s what it is. It was probably my basket-case-baby working me over yesterday. He’s all jacked up on baby ‘roids. Yeah, let’s blame him. He’s so cute that I’m not even mad about it though. I actually just hobbled into his room to cuddle him. I even picked him up, which is probably not a great move considering my current state. Totally worth it though.

Anyone else watching Blindspot? THAT was intense tonight. Grant and I argue about this show all the time. We’re arguing on the same side, and I’m not sure who we’re arguing against, but we argue nevertheless. I always get sucked into watching it- heck, I even stay up to watch it on purpose! But, why? It’s so predictable, everyone gets saved in a matter of hours, and the episodes are wrapped in the most beautiful little bows at the end. Whatever. I’ll be here- same time, same place next week. Who am I trying to kid?

Grant doesn’t want me to talk about this online, but he knows better. I’m at SAHM (stay-at-home-mom, for all you young kids who are out there doing whatever-the-heck you want), so this is my social interaction, for the most part. I process outwardly, so he can’t expect me to bottle this up and save it for never. Here it is: I had to take my precious, tiny, perfect, only baby to the ER yesterday because I thought he was having an allergic reaction to peanut butter. Whether or not he actually reacted is yet to be determined by a blood test. His little baby eyes got so swollen and bumpy, and it was the absolute scariest thing I’ve ever dealt with. I even cried a little. I’m not trying to make light of this on purpose, but this is the second stage of my processing: acting like it’s not a big deal and that it is now a joke. But, it’s still too soon for even me. Of course, I was allowing the worst possible scenarios to run rampant in my mind, so needless to say, I didn’t sleep much last night.

Can we talk about control? Isn’t it weird how we’re all “control freaks” and pretend like we have a tangible grip on life? Let me tell you (and me) something: we don’t. It’s the scariest place to be. But, it’s a necessary place to be. We need to acknowledge things like this so we don’t A) lie to ourselves, and B) leave things unsaid and undone because “we’ll always have more time for that”(which is lying to ourselves). Let’s not do that, friends. As I was lying awake last night mulling over the events of the day, this weird sense of peace washed over me and I began to pray. I just thanked God for my precious boy, the time we get with him, and that God picked me to be his mom. As a believer, I know that my (and Griff’s) days are numbered. Only God know what that number is, but that’s just to say that none of us were ever meant to live forever. I’m going to try to tie this blogpost up into a tiny, pretty little bow, even though I know life is RARELY like this:

Let’s get out from under fear and try to live abundantly. It’s a daunting task, but a worthy one. I want to do it. Let’s do it.

Also, another ending remark: Let’s NOT do this alone. If God wanted us to live alone, He would’ve just created one person, but He didn’t, so don’t believe the lies that you aren’t worthy of relationships or love. You totally are, and you need it to live.

I really didn’t want to make this a life lesson. I tried really hard not to, but it just happens. I’m sorry. Here’s a tip: Don’t buy one-ply toilet paper.

Brutal honesty.

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Sometimes in life, you look all around you, and you just feel the need to say, “What The Hell?!” I know, “hell” in this context isn’t very “nice”, whatever that means, but you just need a curse word to emphasize what you’re really feeling at that moment every now and then. Sometimes, I even direct it in this way: “What the hell, God?” Yeah, I said it. And today, I mean it. I’m not mad necessarily. I’m not angry with God. I’m just really unsure of what’s going on around here, if anything. I’ve had a few of these moments in life, and looking back, sometimes I can see what He was doing, and others I’m still scratching my head about. 

Here’s some real, unadulterated context for you: I’m 25 years old, married to a high-school English teacher/soccer coach (score! literally), I live with my mother-in-law, all of my precious wedding gifts and pieces of a home that I own are boxed up/molding in the basement, I am without a college degree (though I am currently in school), and without a vision. I wouldn’t say I feel as hopeless as someone treading water in the middle of the ocean with no land in sight, but I would say I feel as frustrated as someone dropped off in a foreign country without a translator. As in, I could probably have enough know-how to find some food and maybe a place to lie my head down for a little while, but it would take quite a while to get my bearings and really thrive. Let me put it in clearer terms: I feel like my life comes as me day by day (as with every other human), but instead of being on a trail, I’m on a treadmill. I keep my nose to grindstone for a while, working away and trying to “do life” (I hate that phrase), and then I look up, and everything’s the same. Except that everything has changed. I’m still in the same position, but everything and everyone around me has shifted. 

With that said, I have to say that I know am very blessed. My husband loves me unconditionally, is quick to forgive, the first to support whatever dream wanders into my mind, and makes me laugh until my side splits. His mother loves me as one of her own, and has done so since day one. She opened her home to us during a difficult time, and has never expected anything in return. The family I came from thinks I’m smart and funny and worthy of their love. But, why do I feel like all I do is disappoint them? They tell me they’re proud, but I don’t believe them. Are they lying because they love me? Am I a bad person for thinking that or discounting how they feel, even if it is about me? Could I be anymore selfish? These questions plague me often, and I am overcome with guilt. It’s a vicious cycle, really. And very exhausting. 

Forgive me, I am hormonal, this is finals week, and I am tired. But, writing is my release, and so I must write. I think I believe that God has a plan for me. I hear faint whispers of His guiding sometimes, but for some reason, I can’t be satisfied. I try to read His word, but it’s like my heart is literally steering me away from it. Why can’t I want that? What am I afraid of finding there? I know exactly what I’m afraid of finding. I’m afraid of finding Me. And Him. I’ve heard my whole life that He loves me no matter what, and that I was created for a purpose, and blah blah blah… None of that holds meaning unless you can experience His powerful, consuming love, and it actually penetrates the very depths of your soul. I yearn for that feeling of brokenness and wholeness all at the same time. It’s like I know exactly what it’s supposed to feel like and what it’s supposed to do to me, but I’m always just a little too far…it’s a little too out of reach. And, I think I believe that it’s not up to me. He pursues me, and I’m supposed to accept? How? It’s the simplest and most complicated answer all at the same time. I long for that intimacy with the Heavenly Father, but I am standing in my own way. My own vanity, selfishness, pride, insecurities, fear, false sense of control…I could go on and on. I just want Him. I just want wholeness in the Father. I know that’s the missing piece, and I want it so badly. 

For now, I’ll put my nose back to the grindstone, love my family, make good grades, tidy up my living space, and keep going. I will be thankful for the good things in life, push myself to be better where I am weak or lacking, and pray for God to intercept my life with his love. It’s there, all around me. I see it in others’ faces, I read about it in books, and I feel it in nature. And maybe, one day, I’ll know what it feels like firsthand, and will be rendered speechless by the glory of it all.