When loving deeply meant losing me.

That moment I never knew I’d experience in motherhood.

That tear soaked shoulder I cried on, begging a sweet friend to just tell me that I was the terrible mother I already knew that I was.

There are times in life that seasons come that seem to knock the breath out of us. Our very nature seems to change. The people we thought we were, we no longer see staring back at us in the mirror. The friends we’ve known for years seem distant. The spouses, parents, etc … they’re all just people in our lives. We are alone. We are stuck fighting ourselves and our very nature. I’ve been there. That’s where I am. I am painfully aware of my fickle heart and sinful nature, my impatient being – and overwhelmingly full of joy at the unchanging nature of my savior. . . my God. Yahweh. Jesus.

“He is the same yesterday, today, and forever.”  Hebrews 13:8

Like many parents I, too, make jokes about parenthood. I makes jokes about things my kids do, about the tantrums my kids have, I kid about running away (even though I really am taking a sabbatical when they are teenagers, sorry, honey), and I enjoy laughing about these things with friends. But I’ve really truly struggled. I have been in such a horrible place that I didn’t know where to turn, except Jesus, of course. I have felt like the biggest failure on the planet. I have been in a place where I felt that I couldn’t talk to my husband, where I couldn’t confide in my friends, my tribe, and where I desperately wanted to walk straight into my Pastors office and pour my heart out but Sunday after Sunday I would force myself to walk straight by, to the point there were some days at church I would avoid him altogether b/c I was worried I might ask him if I could come talk to him and his wife and get some advice. Why? Why would that be a problem? Oh, it wouldn’t be for me. It would be a blessing for me, because they are amazing people and they have truly weathered some storms, even with their children, and I feel they could really help me, but because I am the problem. I’ve asked myself so many times, “Why can’t you just be happy? What’s wrong with you? You need to be a reliable and responsible person and you can do this, everyone else can handle their families, everyone knows you can barely hold it together with her being sick, do you want everyone to know how much you don’t know? You’ll be fine, things will be better.” I convinced myself that if I bothered my pastor that I was selfish for taking him and his wife away from other people who need them b/c every time I turn around they are surrounded with other people and because I know that pastors are always burdened with caring for so much, the occupational hazard I suppose, and I didn’t want to burden them.  I also didn’t know what to say, “Pastor, I’m a terrible mom. I suck and there’s no hope for me but Jesus, I’m saved but how do I survive till my dying day?” How desperate would that have been?

I have been so grieved the past couple of years with everything that I have had going on. Right now I am in such a place of struggle with my sweet Posie that my heart aches and I don’t know how to fix anything. She’s a sweet little girl, truly she is and I love her so deeply. She has been one of the greatest blessings of my life and I can’t imagine what our lives would be without her. I know God doesn’t make mistakes but I struggle with understanding. I don’t know anything. Every day is such a struggle and I feel like a failure as a mother, as a wife, as an everything at this point. I’m tired. I’m tired. I’m so tired. I never get any sleep. I never get to do any of the things that I want to do. I worry when I’m not suppose to. Now that’s she’s doing better with her health the past couple months, more than she ever has, and it’s like the optimal time for her go to this feeding program, we have zero money in the bank, and I wonder how we will pay for the program when it’s so expensive and then I get sick with worry even when I pray about it – which makes me feel like a failure all over again. I feel defeated.

Even if she didn’t have insomnia and I could sleep – I couldn’t. The middle of the night would be the only undisturbed time available to me. I know I’m not the only mama that stays up late after the kids are in bed just to have some time to herself but mine isn’t even watching tv or reading the Bible or visiting with my husband, lately it’s just laying in the bed, wishing for better days ahead. I’ve found that anytime I pray or read the Bible she starts crying or puking and it literally pulls what patience is left in my body right from my grips – so I don’t even try. I don’t even try at night. I will get her in bed and just lay there in bed for hours till I doze off and on. Insomia is real. Sensory Processing Disorder is real. Her medical conditions are real. Life is real. It’s real and hard. It’s real hard. There are times I feel like I’d like to get up in the middle of the night and write a blog but I don’t because I’m afraid that someone is going to talk to me. I’m afraid that my husband or children are going to hear me up and come talk to me and I can’t handle it. I just want to be left alone so I just stay in bed doing nothing even when I can’t sleep because I can’t handle anymore. I hate that my house always looks like crap. Yes, a lot of my friends always say their houses look like crap but it’s double time over here. I can spend the entire day cleaning and the same night it looks like I haven’t touched the house in a month. Between having a preteen, the toddler who is the tazmanian-devil, and a husband – the house is a complete disaster and it gives me anxiety. I can’t stand living here. It’s always destroyed and makes me irritated. I know I have OCD, not the kind that ppl joke about, but the real stuff. The kind that gives anxiety, a racing heart, doubt, etc. and has taught me so much about just letting go, weather it be house work, or work-work. With that being said, I am struggling. Every day is a struggle. Most days I take it on with a positive attitude and a heart full of patience.  I am at a loss as how to give myself what I need and at the same time give my husband, my marriage and my children what they need. It’s so hard being a prisoner in your own home. Going to the grocery store is an event that usually always ends in me sweating and my heart racing as I try to speed through shopping and checking out while I worry about getting home quickly to be with my youngest who is no doubt freaking out that I am gone. It’s hard to even take a trip to the playground at McDonald’s because that usually ends with the youngest in a full on meltdown. She’s not fully aware of her surroundings due to the spatial awareness issues (another fun thing from sensory processing disorder) and she’s ran right into the corner of a table more than once, thrown herself right onto the floor in a tantrum, and headbutting me in the mouth/chin when I held her trying to soothe her from the over-stimulation. We can’t go to a restaurant to eat, sit through a movie, or take them to a water park when the oldest so desperately wants to. Our oldest wants so badly to do thing and we can’t. It just can’t happen between her sister being sick all of the time AND the SPD.

I am mourning the loss of any time with my friends or husband right now that we simply don’t get to have. Their are so many things I want to do professionally, so many things I want try kids to experience and I have to let go because it’s not in God’s plan for me, for us, right now. I know it could be worse, but make no mistake just because my child looks OK, doesn’t mean she is. SPD IS REAL!!! Parents who deal with the behavior daily need your patience; if I do not call or text you back don’t think it means I am ignoring you, I am just I overwhelmed. I might be absent as of now but it won’t be forever. I don’t even know exactly why I am writing this post, maybe just as a mental release. At the end of the day I know the only way is forward. Giving myself grace, as well as my children. I just hope we turn a corner soon. Please pray for us.