Before I ever really adjusted to the newness of moving to Arkansas, Judah came. And before I could adjust to life with two kids, Brian started traveling. And before I could get the hang of the on again off again single mom life, we were interrupted by Christmas travels. And here I am, three weeks after the holidays and feeling like I'm struggling to breathe. And I'm a little bewildered by it. It's like the waters were slowly rising around me and I never noticed until I was completely under water. And instead of simply keeping the rhythm of treading water, I find myself flailing just to keep my head above the surface.
I'm not an anxious person, and these days anxiety overwhelms me at any given encounter. I often find myself perplexed, wondering where in the world it's coming from. Small things have become too much for me to handle. Being at peace is something I have always valued - something that has always kept me anchored. And somewhere in the throws of the last six months, I lost it. It's as if it's all being carried away wave by wave - always just out of reach.
And the difficulty is - there's no culprit. No great event occurred, there's no one person to blame, there's not one great burden weighing down. It just all piled on, slowly overtaking me. And my hope is that it will all ease out as steadily and as timely as it came in. That high tide has come, and now it's time for it to return to sea. That's my hope - my anticipation. So I'll just keep riding it out, waiting for the calm. Waiting for the peace to return. Waiting for life to normalize yet another time.