Sometimes I'm not sure how personal to get in this space. I know that you, my readers, are made up of friends and family, people I know and people I don't. So I wonder what do you want to hear? And what are my intentions behind what I share? This space offers a sort of therapy for me. Here I can focus on the good things in life. I can put my feelings and thoughts into words. I can revisit my posts as time passes and they serve as a reminder of moments gone by. And hopefully I can inspire you.
I struggle with knowing how much honesty is enough or too much. And so I don't often speak, or write, openly about personal challenges in my relationships as a wife, mother and daughter, but God knows they are there. So here we are. There was a moment yesterday where it felt like my life was a runaway train; steadily gaining speed as I lost more and more control. I was running on the least amount of sleep I've ever had. Connor was fast and squirmy. Ryan was emotional and demanding. I was swamped by a work project. Michael and I were distant. Thoughts spun through my head. Am I experiencing postpartum depression? Can sleep deprivation make a person lose their mind? Or is this my old foe, anxiety, coming back to pay me a visit?
It was all too much, all at the same time, and I could not see through it. Here's some transparency. I was convinced that working part-time would be the magic potion that would make my life easy and beautiful—at least most of the time. But that didn’t happen. Now I spend less time on my day job, and more time on home and family responsibilities. So the duties just shifted from one area to another, and life is not any easier. I just keep telling myself, this is a season. And as I wait to bid farewell to winter temperatures and welcome spring, I wait for these days of unrest to become days of peace. And I hope that the train slows down before too much damage is done.