I don’t usually discuss spirituality in this space, mostly because I am a coward, but this is my blog and I’ll write what I want (said in a whiny voice).
July was a tough month. I tried, unsuccessfully, to downplay the difficulties I was experiencing with Ben’s busy schedule. I would have my good days, of course, but more often than not I was a mere shell of myself. Solo parenting was exacting, resulting in a flinging aside of my most basic needs. I was sleeping and eating less. Since I knew that this time period would re-occur multiple times in the future (as we press forward through medical school), I tried my best. The kids were fed, bathed, and entertained. I continued to ignore the tempting calm that a TV show might bring, knowing that if I gave in once, it would become a nasty habit. But my patience was thin.
Determined as I was to use my education to discipline–or not discipline– my little toddler effectively, I would fail on occasions and continuously berate my seemingly futile attempts mentally. Riddled with guilt, I often sought reprieve in my favorite books at night, not even willing to open my computer and seek out the company of my friends (you) because I felt denying myself of that simple pleasure was a worthy punishment for my parenting and spousal disappointments.
After enjoying an amazing anniversary day with my beloved husband, I returned to the loneliness of my day-to-day life. It was overwhelmingly difficult and I felt something emerging from deep inside that I had hoped to hide: anger. After a few unsuccessful attempts at smothering the heat, I reached the boiling point. I put both the kids in the Pack n’ Plays and hid inside my room. Copious amounts of tears slid down my face as I struggled to regain my composure. With little recognition of my movements, I maneuvered myself on my knees at the edge of my bed. I sat there, drowning the comforter with the wetness of my tears, and finally released my frustrations to my Heavenly Father. The anger turned to sadness as I explained how tired I was. God, the perfect listener, let me silently yell and quietly sob as I vented. He did not interrupt, nor did He try to fix things. He let me talk. In talking, I started seeing my situation more clearly. Ben would be studying, hard, the rest of the week. Foreseeing what could happen, I quickly felt a ready solution: a trip to see my mom.
As you know, I left. The trip was everything I needed. I did not get any more sleep there than I would have at home (my kids woke up between 5 and 5:30 every morning) but I did have a chance to unwind. Having instant baby-sitters was exactly what I needed. I rested on the couch, content to watch as my kids played with their Aunts and Uncles, and thought about the future. I found a hidden reservoir of strength hidden within my heart, built by my faith.
With a revived sense of self, I made the journey home. Reunited with my wonderful husband, I renewed my promise to support him through everything that is sent our way. This promise was also made with my Heavenly Father. I know He–through his Holy Spirit–will fortify my righteous desires in the years to come.
Once again, I am confident.
Traveling and computer problems have made blogging rather impossible. I am planning on catching up with all your wonderful words in time. I missed all of you.