It's a hard season right now.
It's not the hardest. It is a gazillion shades below the hardest.
In fact, I have a hard time looking at others and saying it's hard.
I am tired this week. But how can I confess to my friend who is a mother of three boys, 4 and under, that I--the singleton--am tired? And yet I do. I confess it in a way couched in self-deprecation, "I don't have mom stamina yet. I haven't been gifted with that. I'm tired." And she kindly gives me an out: "emotional exhaustion."
It's hard at work right now. Not the hardest. Second to hardest. :) I was thinking on my drive home from Jazzercise tonight that it is like I am in the ocean, in the water. I keep dropping underneath the surface. And then, I find myself bobbing up above surface again, and I'm not quite sure how I got here, or how long I have been under the waves. I bob up to the surface and feel--not to mix metaphors--like I'm on top of the ball again. But--to go back to the ocean analogy--the whole time my head is above water, the waves keep slapping salt water into my mouth. I am being beaten even while surviving. But how can I complain--or even explain--to anyone? It seems ridiculous to say I cannot juggle xyz when other teachers juggle XYZ. So I say, "I know others do this, and are able to do this, but *I* am struggling."
I am going through personal disappointment. The kind that catches you like seaweed, dragging you along the ocean floor for a bit as you watch the coral and crabs and sea anemones do what they do while you pass by. "Huh. So here we are again. After all that, here we are again." The scenery is very familiar. And I know I won't feel the bite of the coral in my flesh, the abrasion of the sand, the choking of salt water in my eyes for long, but this is my present. No one's fault but my own. Tale as old as time. Moving on.
I know myself well enough to know that, at the moment, I just need sleep. I have "matured" enough to know that my "hard season" is not the end of the world, and that I will face much harder seasons in the future. It is difficult to even SAY I am having a hard season when I look at those around me, and those who have gone before me, who have so. much. more. on their plates than God has given me right now. Like, seriously. What am I complaining about?
I have attainable-ish dreams for my future that excite me. I have nights and weekends when I escape with godly friends, and goodness, I am spoiled. I'm going to Hawaii next month too! I have been reading--oh, SUCH good books (thanks to the motivation of a Facebook Book Reading Competition that I know I won't win, but I'm taking advantage of the fire under me while it lasts). I have health, minimal family drama, job security, etc. etc. etc.
So that's where I am right now I guess. Everyone has something, right? Something good, something hard. I am thankful to my friends who sympathize with me and don't throw their hard in my face as comparison. I hope that I do the same for them.
