That Friday I crumbled. But still. I rise.
My body into a wall...in a corner...on the floor...crumbled.Friday. It was my son's 21st birthday. My manchild. My oldest. My only son. And as immensely proud as I am of this boy… I cannot fathom that he is 21. Where of the years gone? Where has my life gone? Have I made an impact on him? Is he really prepared for adulthood? Did I fail as a mother? Did I do...enough? Am I being unreasonable? Is my thinking unclear? Possibly. I know I have not failed. I know it. He is an amazing human being. But I look at him AND his three sisters and I wonder if I'm doing okay. Then my business flashed in front of my brain. Some days it's just too damn hard. Some days I just want to quit. It's too competitive. It's too worldly. Can I possibly make an impact? And on Friday, specifically, in my overwhelm, I wondered if I was going to get all the work done. There are so many orders. And never enough time. I can't. I can't. I can't. Friday. I had lunch with my pastor's wife. She is an amazing human being. A beautiful spirit inside and out. A godly woman whom I respect and I'm growing to love dearly. She challenged me and she made me think. She always does. My brain hurt. My marriage is failing. I know these are not words you're SUPPOSED to write and put out there for everyone to read. These are things you're supposed to keep secret, hide away and just "pray about" and hope they resolve. But this is real. This is me. And I'm fighting very hard to find answers. Friday. The day before I had let a friend down. It was hard and it was painful and it hurt her and subsequently hurt me. I knew it was the right thing to do… or me. But sometimes doing the right thing for yourself can be so very hurtful to others. And hurting this friend, who I love so dearly, made my heart ache. The weight of that decision hit me in the chest like a ton of bricks that afternoon. So there I sat. In my studio. At 4 o'clock in the afternoon. Sad. Lonely. Distraught. Hopeless. Crumbled. I have all the depression fighting tools. I know how to pull each one out of my toolkit and use it to grab myself from the depths of muck and mire and rise. I called out to God. I called my therapist. I called a friend. I grounded myself. But yet... I crumbled. I'm tired. I'm sad. And some days I feel so lost. I do know who I am in Christ. I am confident in that. But that does not mean that the doubts and the frustrations and the desperation don't come. They do. It's OK. This is who I am. This is how I am. This is what makes ME human. I am not broken - just - bent. I feel. Good Lord do I feel. And guess what, it's okay. I picked myself up from that corner. I washed my face. I put shipping labels on envelopes and I went to the post office. I went downstairs to the coffee shop where my daughter was working and ordered a coffee. I bought take out across the street for my family. I soldiered on. It's what I do.
So there I sat. In my studio. At 4 o'clock in the afternoon. Sad. Lonely. Distraught. Hopeless. Crumbled.Please hear me. I'm okay. I don't say all this to pat myself on the back or even play the sympathy card. I say all that because each one of us wears a mask every single day, and no one really knows what's going on inside. We are ALL fighting our own battles. Life is hard. And sometimes. Sometimes. We crumble. We are so quick to judge and so unwilling to look any further than what we see. We too often love much less than we should. I know there are people who will read all of my words and get stuck on "my marriage is failing". They will offer words of wisdom, advice, prayer. What do I want? I want you not to assume. Not imagine. Not think..."you know". You don't. Most of you would never look at me as the girl who would EVER crumble in a corner. Who would never actually think, "what if I disappear today?" But those thoughts are real. And they happen. I'm not embarrassed. This is who I am. And I'm so grateful for the tools and the people in my life that allow me not to sink any deeper than I ever should. Open your eyes people! Look around! Every day I ask Jesus to give me eyes to see. I want to see. I want to feel. I want my love to be genuine. Jesus not only saw the hurting, the sad, the conflicted, the lonely and the scared. He reached out. He touched them. He offered compassion. I want to be that. I want to reach out. So yes. I crumbled. Hard core crumbled. But I reached out. I cried out. I got help. I picked myself up. And guess what...still...I rise.
Just like moons and like suns, With the certainty of tides, Just like hopes springing high, Still I’ll rise. Did you want to see me broken? Bowed head and lowered eyes? Shoulders falling down like teardrops, Weakened by my soulful cries?...... I rise I rise I rise. ~ Maya AngelouThat women in the check out line, that man on the train, the rebellious looking teen at the mall - they too might need a helping hand. A simple smile. Compassion. Grace. Be patient. Loving. Kind. I want to reach out, because others have done that for me. Will you? Would you do it for me? I know I would do it for you. much love, lisa