Tonight, you said I didn’t like going to bed with you.
This has been a hard week. In fact, this has been a hard couple of weeks. We have had a lot going on in our family and there is a LOT going on in the world.
Landry needs tubes, we have a sister who is fearful she’s losing a baby, a family vacation we were all really looking forward to fell through, and just to make it super fun: COVID19.
Tonight, I am upset with the universe. There’s a lot I’m having a hard time wrapping my head around. For starters, the loss of a child at any stage. I will never understand.
I’m nervous to have our baby girl put under for her tube surgery. “It’s routine”, they say. “Most kids have no trouble with the anesthesia”, they reassure. Our baby girl has been anything but “most kids”, from the day she came dancing into this world. I’m nervous.
I’m trying to be a great teacher “Your concerns are valid. I know as much as you. I will let you know if the school intends to close.” I am trying to be a good friend “How is little Johnny feeling? How was your doctor’s appointment?” I am trying to be a good sister “Please let me hold the pieces of your shattered heart. I will be gentle with them. They are safe with me.” I am trying to be a good mom “I know you’re tired baby. Come here and let me hold you. It’s okay. I’m tired too.” I am trying to be a good wife “Why was your day kind of terrible? Is it the world or was it work?” I am trying to be a good E V E R Y T H I N G. Literally everything. To everyone. All of the time. Everywhere I go. Every second. Of every single day.
So, when you said to me tonight that you were headed off to bed and made a cheeky comment about me not following suit lately, I guess it hit a nerve. And maybe you noticed. Or maybe you didn’t.
See, I’m willingly carrying (what feels like) the weight of the world. At the end of the day? I am so tired my bones hurt. It takes time for me to set the weight down and find my shoulders again. Going to bed feeling this heavy leaves me tossing and turning all night long.
So I popped off and said it wasn’t about you and that was the absolute truth-it isn’t about you. It’s about me. And trying to find me. Before I have to get up tomorrow and pick the weight back up again.
If this reads as bitter, I am absolutely NOT. I feel strength and pride and a wholeness in being able to share this weight. It’s an honor to be trusted with these pieces of people’s lives that are so vulnerable and sacred.
I think it is easy for us to slip into a self deprecating default mode. It’s easy to think, “It’s me. I must have done something.” Next time you seem heavy, I’ll ask if you need a hug. Will you do the same? Or offer an extra shoulder? Because mine get tired. And trying to find the space to decompress is an exhausting battle I am clearly losing these days.
Tonight you said I didn’t like to go to bed with you.
I wish going to bed was always that easy.