Drowning

"Does anyone else feel as tired as me? Does anyone else feel the tears rise to their eyes but the timing simply isn't right because there's children, or business or life to tend to and so you shove them down consoling yourself that you will find the time to release them...later, and then quite possibly an entire week can go by as you continually push them back because literally there has not been a single convenient moment in which you could cry? And then when you finally do find that moment, late at night, does anyone else feel the tears heavy in their throat but for some reason the relief that you know would come from a good cry, just won't come? Does anyone else go around feeling like their grown up mask can't possibly stay on for very much longer and then the overwhelmed 15 year old will just crumple under the mound of things she's known all along she can't possibly handle? Does anyone else feel like they have no idea what they are doing?!"

I wrote the above more than a week ago. A sort of spewing of the contents of my heart in the silence of a lonely night. Things have not changed much since then except that finally, the tears did come. In big shoulder shaking sobs with huge gasps of air in between. Something about having a husband there to catch the tears makes them come easier I guess. Even though I'm sure he wishes they'd escaped me while he was still on the other side of the world. Oh well, "for better or worse" he said. Today was for worse; and he was still my champion. Allowing me a couple hours freedom to wander aimlessly around in my somber 'post-cry' state, clearing my head and tackling errands that have piled up to an insurmountable height. Already I feel slightly lighter. Gosh I love him.

I don't have any more to write right now. No tidy packaging to wrap this post up with, no hopeful moral of the story or silver lining. I believe in God. I believe He cares that I feel weary and bent beneath my load. I do not believe He is freeing me from it, even though I believe that He could. But I don't fault Him for it, I am not stomping my feet like a child not getting what she wants. I just do not know what else to say about it except it does not shake my core belief that He is still good and sovereign and holy. It just makes me cry, because I am tired, and I wish He would simply take pity on me.

This post is beyond low, but I feel beyond low. I'm almost positive I will feel silly and dramatic for posting this, but my fingers are flying across the keys without restraint because it just feels so freeing to type out this cloud weighing so heavy in my chest, to let it come pouring out through them even if only for a moment of escape. Posting feels like getting it out of me for a second, but I don't want to deal with feeling the embarrassment of having to look someone in the eye who ended up reading it. So I guess that's why I'm posting it on the hidden blog, the one I atleast can tell myself no one or atleast almost no one reads. Here you go cyber world, it's me. In the rawest of form.