So I would have blogged, but my health has sucked these last few days. I tried to ignore it and do some projects around the house (although slowly), but last night my body put a stop to my denial. I passed out from the pain at 7:15 and didn't wake up until this morning. I felt like I had partied like it was 1999. I am so pumped full of medicine right now-and I feel only better, not completely well.
Today was spent taking it really easy as I tried to trick my body into believing it was well. I did a lot of sitting, drinking water, and popping pills. These moments sometimes find me frustrated and irritated, because I just get sick of being sick.
Especially, when I finally find an ounce of resolve to pull through and make this house a home that we love. I try to hang on tight and tell myself that we will make it, that one day this will fill like home, and we will find community one day. My mind starts working on plans for the house; I start processing things; I start writing just to get things out of my head; and I put my big girl panties on-
and promptly get smacked right in the head. It knocks me so hard that my resolve flies out the window. This makes me want to scream at God, "Can't anything be easy right now?!"
But I haven't gotten an answer yet.
I have been thinking a lot lately about what I call half-truths, two in particular. I find myself thinking in circles about them. If I had to debate them, I would stumble and fumble over my words, not being able to stream sentences together that make sense. I can't explain how to separate the truth out from the lie in them. The lies are so tightly wrapped around these truths that it's hard to get to them. We've preached the truths this way so much, and they sound so good-they really do.
But alone, the truths aren't helpful. They become one-sided stories that are one dimensional, and life is so not one dimensional.
I thought about them as my kids sat in counseling, trying to weed through this mess our life has become. As I sat in my van, for one split second, I thought "we will be okay." It was fleeting, but I'll take it. I'm not sure what life will look like on the other side of this, and even though the other side sounds glorious-in some ways it also seems terrifying.
I just looked at the clock and it says 8:15 p.m. I'm listening to Lauren Chandler's CD "The Narrow Place". It's a great CD. My body is doing okay, but my face is starting to feel like it's burning. It's a strange symptom I get, and I have learned to realize it means my body is telling me to chill.
So I'm signing off tonight in hopes of having a good day tomorrow.