These Hard Weeks

Some weeks are harder than others. As a mother, as a wife, as a blogger, as a person with a million things on the in-the-head to do list. Some weeks I can't even think about the list and I am bogged down by the reality that I don't have time to do it all.

I don't have to time or energy or resources to be everything to everyone. I don't.

Those weeks are hard. It's hard for me to admit that something's gotta give. Some weeks I just go through the motions in hopes that I never have to admit it.

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So I don't. And this vicious cycle weaves in and out of my life and my head, and I get lost in the rhythm.

Some weeks, some days, some hours are hard. And I can't see anything through the fog. But my lack of desire to see clearly stunts my growth even more. How does it end if I don't try?

I see the advantages to these hard weeks, though. I get so overwhelmed that I then do nothing. And doing nothing means that I read the entire Hunger Games trilogy in a week and a half. It means that I study my daughters' body language and characteristics and personalities that I don't see when I'm behind a computer screen or doing the dishes or washing the clothes. I see them and my throat swells in what can only be described as gratitude. How did I get them?

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These hard weeks, they suffocate me and release me all at once. I am trapped in the corner only to see what is directly before me... to see only the immediate... to make out what is right in front of the fog... to only have a clear recognition of what is closest to me.

And that is them.

This vicious cycle, it has its ups and its downs. It has its rhythms. It releases emotions that have been suppressed because I can't cry while doing the dishes and folding the laundry. But I can cry when it's just me, in my corner, working through the fog. These hard weeks, they release me.

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