Where I’m at Lately.

I’m being curious today.

You see, I’ve been doing a lot of reflecting lately. My friend, with her love of Brene Brown, says it’s good to get curious about ourselves. Our why. Or our what. 

Why do I think I am feeling so overwhelmed? What prompted the negative way I’m thinking about myself? What is my body doing in response?

Why am I craving solitude right now? What about it brings me joy or rest?

Why do I feel so fragile and volatile? What is going on behind the curtain?

I’ve been taking some time away from here and I have been telling myself it’s because I don’t have much to say right now. But sitting here typing away, I’m wondering if I have had too much to say instead.

If I seem down or a different tone than normal, I apologize. But not really. It’s just the headspace of reflection, er curiosity, that I am in.

Because the truth is, if you’ll indulge me, I’ve been in a tough place as of late. In thinking back, I do think it has been building for a while. My husband gently suggested possibly for the last 3 years.

I’m picturing a bucket of water catching the drips from a leaky roof.  At some point all those drips add up to a full bucket. And when no one is watching, the water does that weird thing it does and it swells almost like a dome on the top of the bucket. And finally there is the one drop that breaks the dome and all the water spills over the edge.

If someone catches it and empties it before the threshold is reached, the bucket never fills beyond it’s edge. But if it goes unattended, or we forget to check back, we come home to wet carpet or warped floors.

We could spend all day unpacking those two paragraphs, huh?

So I’m paying attention to my why right now as I type. And I smirked when I realized I’m saying a whole lot of words because I might be avoiding just saying this…

I’m struggling these days.

Like ugly, face crack cry, tired in my bones, kind of struggling.

There I said it.

I’m not sure why I was being a wuss. Maybe because this is a place I don’t shy away from writing  about hard things, (I even have a post titled, “Today Was a Hard Day“), but this tone feels different than my usual tone. Maybe off brand. Ha.

The truth is I feel like that bucket lately. And I would venture to say that in the last couple weeks, the shimmery little dome of water took on that last drip. And boy, has my s*&t poured over.

It’s new to me. Feeling a bit helpless to “fix” it. To solve the problem. I was literally in a group in elementary school called, “The Future Problem Solvers of America.” Talk about pressure.

I’m not sure I know how to struggle in a sustained way. I am a fixer by nature. A hard worker and not prone to give my emotions control too often.

I also think I was in such a peaceful place and then it felt like boom, that last drip was a shock.

So as I’m doing a lot of being curious, and a lot of trying to plow through, I think I have been a little silent because I don’t want to complain. There is perhaps some comparative suffering going on. I feel strange complaining or talking about it.

My stuff isn’t that bad. There is nothing major going on.

Drip. Drip. Drip

For some reason, I feel guilty or that I should not be allowed to be struggling. The funny thing is, I hit a place last week where there ain’t no hidin’ it anymore. My best efforts at concealer are failing me and I’m like a scary, tired, volatile, fragile, hot mess.

I have no choice but to acknowledge it, because I can’t deny it.

Just a million times a million little drips.

Now.

The good news is that I am hundreds of miles from home, sitting on the back porch of a dear friend, listening to her parents trickling outdoor fountain, just click-clacking away.

It’s like the Lord knew, 6 months ago, when Ashley and I started talking about planning a writing retreat, that she and I individually, would need this weekend at this exact moment. 

That I would be hanging by a thread to get on that plane. That in six months, my soul would need to breathe so desperately, that I would fight crying with relief on the way to the airport.

That I would, in fact, cry at the airport, once I was seated waiting on my flight. That when it was delayed 3 hours, I didn’t ask for my ride to turn around and come get me. I just went and waited alone in peace because getting back in that car would have possibly broken me in two.

Funny how He knows this kind of thing.

 

I’m sitting here wondering how you all are perceiving this. I would imagine, some you might be shedding some tears as you picture your own overflowing bucket. Some of you might be concerned. Like, whoa she sounds depressed.

Some of you might even be uncomfortable. A little much, lady.

That’s cool. I’ve got a draft about my skincare routine coming your way.

I just thought somewhere there might be someone who needed to read this and quietly say, “It’s not just me.”

If that’s you, I just want to say. It is ok.

The confusion of your why can make accepting our times of struggle feel invalid.

For me, I know that not being able to pinpoint what EXACTLY tipped the scales, confuses and makes me unwilling to realize the depth of the hard times. Or to give it the credit it is owed.

So that is ok.

And gosh darnit, I wish a had a little bow to tie this one off with. But I’m sitting here looking off at these lush trees that will soon be dried and parched in the Texas heat, and I am not able to complete the wrapping for this package.

I apologize for that.

In the meantime, I’m gonna keep this one close by.

“Even before a word is on my tongue, behold O Lord, you know it all together.
You hem me in, behind and before, and lay your hand upon me.
Such knowledge is too wonderful for me; it is high; I cannot attain it.” Ps 139:4-6

If this resonates with you, I just want to say, solidarity, friend. You are not alone.

I would love to pray for you and share in your muck with you. You can comment or email me at paige@madefrankdotcom. I’m also on Instagram. I’m not a great poster but I’m on there often and get my dm’s.