I never have trouble sleeping. Yet here I am, two hours til wake up and I can’t seem to turn everything off. Shut it down. Let it go.
Any other insomniacs out there?
If so, I’m sorry-this is terrible! Knowing you need your precious sleep but not being able to get it because your brain is wrapped around something so hard and so tight that there’s no hope of dislodging it anytime soon.
I thought if I wrote for a bit maybe it would help ease me back to center. I’ve been a little off balance lately. Not so much as anyone in my world would even notice. Just enough that it feels like I’m leaning.
My life is amazing folks. I’m grateful for every breath I take, every heartbeat, every moment that I get with my four healthy loud rambunctious kids. Every date night with Mr. Wonderful. Every meal I eat, night I sleep in my own bed and paycheck I receive.
Things are good. No, things are great. Mr. Wonderful is home, sleeping peacefully beside me. He has been feeling good enough to drive fancy horse trailers from Point A to Point B to help earn extra money to take care of our family.
I’m not even sure my early morning ramblings will make sense, but I just feel off. Like there’s an invisible wire that runs through me and the current that is zinging and arcing along it now is worry. Worry about my seven year old who has a heart bigger than most grownups but who struggles with sensory issues and fine motor skills and outbursts when things get too overwhelming for him.
I have a sliver of worry for Mr. Wonderful. He’s so much better now. I guess I still have scars that are still healing from 2013 when he was so not ok and when life unraveled so quickly and so horrifically that I couldn’t do anything to stop it. That year seems like it tilted my whole world and though we have healed and moved forward and learned and experienced growth and found joy and love and hope again, I’ve never been righted completely since then.
Maybe that’s how traumatic or difficult or even wonderful times are supposed to work. Maybe they’re supposed to catch you off guard and leave you breathless and give you a case of life vertigo. One that occasionally flares up, leaving you grabbing for something to lean on until you get your bearings.
I have been looking for my wall to lean into lately. My rock. My steadying hand. Though I haven’t tried to use another human being for this purpose as it might send them careening off their own trajectory, I’ve been going about it all wrong. I should lean in to my faith during good times and bad. Really press in close to the one who brings comfort and healing and hope.
Instead, I’ve been trying to do this all on my own.
When will I learn? I’m such a puny human as my seven year old Avenger watching, hero-wanna-be boy would say.
And he would be right.
Because I am weak. I am flawed. I am tired and I can’t ever seem to find my keys. I am a hot mess and an impatient fool at times. But all I have to do is turn around and ask for help from the one who is ever present. The calm in the storm. The only one who can right me.
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