I was running late. I didn't care. I usually hate being late, but I hadn't eaten all day and I was driving down the road, stuffing food into my face, and I figured if I was three minutes late it wouldn't matter in the long run. I walked into the waiting room, and sat down. I only sat there for thirty seconds, and the inner door opened. I went in, sat down in my chair, and lost it. I curled up into a ball and cried like I haven't cried in ages. I was so tired, so hurt, so... everything. I just wanted it all to stop. I've never wanted to run away so badly in my life. Hurt was sweeping in to take me over. And I honestly wanted to let it. I just wanted to let it swallow me whole, and disappear into nothingness. Into the black.
There are times I want to lay in the dark with my noise cancelling ear buds in and just cry. I can't take the hurt anymore. In the last week, I've seriously been messed up. I don't want to count the amount of times I've wanted to end it. I know I can't, but the thought crosses my mind more times a day than I'd care to admit. (don't worry, my therapist knows, we discuss this mess in detail). I hurt, but I've been so busy being a momma and a wife and a daughter and a friend that I've not been able to deal with it. I think that's the point, maybe. If I'm busy all the time, I can't deal with it. It's starting to catch up with me. Quickly. It is indeed sad that I long for my teenage years, when I could get high and not feel. Not remember. I remember wanting to get caught, and I never did. I was looking for help, then, and never got it. Look at me now. Sigh. I don't know what to say. There is a part of me that wants to live life to the fullest, to be happy and successful, to help others and get God the glory. And part of me wants to curl up and die. Or hide forever. Or just disappear. It's hard being so contradictory. Really, it is. It feels like a double life. Maybe that's why I feel so
I'm a wife. I'm a mom. I'm a photographer. I'm a lover of Jesus. My house is a mess, my kids are dirty, we eat take out more often than not. My life is loud, busy and crazy. And that's okay with me.
This is Eric, the man you've been praying for. He's a paramedic. He quilts in his spare time. No, I couldn't make that up :) He has NASH (a form of liver disease, non-alcoholic) and diabetes, but those things don't define him. He's a man of God, an insanely wonderful husband, and the best daddy in the world.. Just ask these guys..
Our daughter Ali, she's 9. She's fiercely opinionated and strong willed. She's a Daddy's girl, but the umbilical cord hasn't but cut from me, either. She's a gymnast, and proud of it. She spends more time upside down or turning flips than she does walking. She's crazy smart, and absolutely sure of it. She is my insufferable little know it all.
Our son Dylan, 7. We lovingly refer to him as Chubs. Or Chubby. Or fat boy. Ahem. He is all boy, as you can see by his crazy wild energy. He has the highest pain tolerance of any child I have ever met. He plays soccer and does gymnastics, but truly he is a gamer, a nerd. He is an avid reader and loves to climb. Not to be outdone by his sister, he's a drama king, but to him, I'm the best mommy in the world.
I'm here to use my voice. So many people can't. In a world of darkness, I just want to help God's light to shine through. I pray that my words are His, and my love is His, as well. This is my journey through the darkness. To start are the beginning of the story, click here.