A Glimpse of the Sun in the Midst of the Gloom

Finally, after weeks  - months even - of rain, snow, ice, darkness, and gloom, we have had a glimpse of the sun and its beautiful warmth and light.

I always look forward to spring and the newness it brings.  I almost dread fall a little because I know that its end only means winter, and months of limited light, warmth, color and life. 

It's been like that for me emotionally the last six months as well.  Days of darkness and cold interspersed with the activities of life.

I've been thinking about it lately and it seems like I've had a delayed onset of the baby blues.  I guess around the time I went back to work, things just started getting hard.  Keeping up with everything has been overwhelming.  I think I overdid it by coming off of maternity leave and signing up for a PhD level course at the same time.  I had to drop out of all of my extra curricular activities and church fellowship groups.  I've had a hard time learning to juggle our new life and trying to keep all of its balls in the air.

After having a wonderful and fairly easy "transition to two" for the first three months of George's life, I seem to have experienced a set back.  A delayed sense of feeling completely overwhelmed.

It's been a rough six months.

Not every day.  That's the thing with winter.  Not every day is miserable and dark.  Not every day is cold and numbing.  But every now and then, it will sneak up on me and I will have a hard day - or days - and I will wonder, "what's wrong with me?"

It's not normal to spent the day(s) daydreaming about running away and never coming back, right?  It's not normal to go through a mental checklist of which friend I could hide away with and forget the responsibilities of my every day life with, if even for the weekend, right?  It's not normal to feel this overwhelmed by the simple routine of raising two small children, right?

Sometimes I think I'm the only one.  I mean, people don't exactly talk about this.  People don't advertise what it feels like on those dark, cold, gloomy days.  That's not what you hear or what you see.

What you see are the smiles, the "let's just get through this day" grins that help you hold it all together in front of everyone else.  The carefully crafted images of keeping everything in place.  That's what you see.

I know I've done that.

I've sat through the celebration for an event that we've talked about for over a decade, that I've actively been a part of for over five years, with that same plastered smile on my face, even if it was poorly faked.  All the while feeling completely despondent and helpless and hopeless and numb inside.  Telling myself, "just survive two hours."  "Then you can go home and no one will have to see how you really feel inside."  "Don't let them see how you feel right now."

I've even lost the facade now and then.

It's not always a facade.  The majority of the time is really like this.

 There's nothing like the sensation of a hot stream of tears and the flush of embarrassment when you lose the carefully placed veil you've worked so hard at creating in front of other people, even dear friends.  No one wants to be vulnerable in front of others.  No one wants to let anyone else on the outside see how hard it is, or what it feels like on the inside.

Just writing this out makes me feel like I'm being a touch over dramatic.  That I need to just suck it up and stop feeling sorry for myself.  That I'm complaining about what is a wonderful life. 

I have so much to be thankful for.  So much.  I couldn't even begin to list it all out.  And I am.  I am truly thankful for the people and things in my life that make it so full and wonderful and rich.

I am so thankful for these three.

But that's the thing with the winter.  It doesn't care that summer was so warm and wonderful.  It doesn't care that spring will be just as beautiful.  It doesn't care that you have a nice roaring fire inside... if you could just get there and grab a warm cup of cocoa and sit on the couch and enjoy it.

When it's winter, it's cold outside now. 

The hard days are the days when my body is physically broken and hurting.  Those days when I'm tired or my body is exhausted from the requirements of lugging two small children around - both of whom seem to want to be carried all of the time - and trying to meet their physical and emotional needs.  The hard days are when I feel like every person, animal, and thing (living or otherwise) needs something from me.  They are the days when I feel overwhelmed by the pulls of children, work, husband, school, pets, home, church, and more.  They are the days when there is just not enough of me to go around.

They are the days when I feel like I'm teetering on the razor-sharp edge of a complete and total emotional break down.

And the thing is, I have cut back on my responsibilities.  I really do not have an overwhelming burden when you put things into perspective.  But I guess that logic doesn't always necessarily play into how you feel emotionally. 

I have to think that I'm not the only one.  I can't be the only dreading Sunday because that's when I have to hold it together in front of the most people.  I can't be the only one among all of those happy-looking families and put-together mothers that feels like they're treading water, just barely keeping their nose above the surface at times.

And I don't really know what there is to do to make it better.  Maybe just venting about it (although I feel like a drama queen even writing this post).  Maybe it's finding the balance between being honest and admitting my failures versus hanging onto darkness.  Maybe it's doing a better job of turning things over to my Savior and truly leaning on Him.

I don't know what the difference is between experiencing a legitimately challenging phase of life and struggling to deal with it emotionally versus wallowing in discontent and self-pity.  

When does it change from something you can't help and have to just get through to a heart issue that you're not dealing with?

I guess if I'm honest, it's been more than just the transition to two that I've struggled with.  There have been several changes in our lives that we are all learning to adjust to.  Change isn't always bad, but that doesn't necessarily make it easier.

I told a friend that even though you might be looking forward to a new chapter of your life, it doesn't mean that you don't sometimes look back and mourn the loss of past chapter(s).

And I supposed I have done a bit of that.  Mourning the past chapters.  Mourning missing dear friends, mourning the old way of things, mourning our former community (or at least my "idea" of what that was). 

I don't know how to make it all better.  How to make the sadness and sense of being overwhelmed disappear.  But I do know that it will.

Spring always follows winter.