The pressure has been building. Slowly. Slipping in. The reality of my life. Divorce. Single mom. Sole responsibility. Winter. Depression. I guess I thought it would be easier now. Two years in. The pain more a dull throb than a hot intense burn. The hard doesn’t reflect how it was in the beginning. But it is still hard. Just different.
There are times I feel so much older than my 34 years. This tired weary soul in this young woman’s body. So very tired. I feel it in my bones. The grief. The sadness. The loss. I yearn for real rest. Not just sleep. Rest where my body and my soul will be recharged. I continue to seek it in Christ. I find peace in my prayers and faith. I do feel Him. He never leaves my side.
Yet, I just want to scream. Scream out all the anger, hurt, worries, responsibility. I want the rain to come down and wash away it all. Making me clean. No more scars. No more broken pieces. No more jaded heart.
I want to throw the temper tantrum. An epic one like my child does. A tantrum that will just let it all out. Throwing myself down. Screaming. Crying. Picking up whatever is close and letting it fly. Not thinking of anything but the overwhelming emotions that are in control. Then when I am almost finish, I want someone to pick me up and hold me in their arms. Rocking me. Cradling me close. Calming the storm that is raging inside of me. Over and over, repeating and whispering to me, I love you, I love you, I love you. Just like I do for my son. A strong, firm, stable hand that doesn’t let go.
But I can’t. Because I am the adult. I am the lighthouse in the night for my children. I am their beacon. I am needed to hold our lives together. Be the light. Be the calm. Be strong and brave and joyful and happy and energetic and on and on it goes.
I keep waiting for a break. I keep holding the faith that something is gonna give. Something needs to happen. Something good. Something real. Something. Yet, I can feel it ebbing. I get angry. Right now I feel angry. At how my life took a drastic turn. At how I desperately try to do the good and right thing, yet feel like the good girl finishes last. At how I understood when the pain was hot, fresh, and new and now it is leaving me hollow, tear less, and cold. But both feel just as hard and never ending. Both making me dig deep for strength and courage. Kindness and forgiveness. Bold and fearless. Faithful and hopeful.
I feel as though I have said this all before. I have pleaded for a break. I have prayed for something good. I ask how many more breaks until I shatter. Honestly, it is getting old. Even for me. Right now, I feel guilty for sounding like a whiny adult. I know I have many blessings and good things in my life. I know this because I thank Him every single morning and night. These blessings are the only thing holding me together. But I am not going to dull down how I feel. How I struggle. How I hurt. I need to feel them all. Because when I feel the dark, I know I can appreciate the light more. I can be more compassionate and understanding to those who hurt along side me.
Maybe this is my prayer. Maybe this is my cry out to God to take me and use me. But please just give me something. I need a little boost to keep going. I need a spark to ignite the fire inside of me. I don’t know if I can keep my heart soft for much longer living like this.
The heart is always the last one to leave the fight. -Jay Long