|A picture of me.|
It all just felt like too much. When the straw fell that broke the proverbial camel's back, I was at the kitchen table, hunched over my computer, trying to manipulate technology that I don't really understand in an attempt to complete a creative process that I fully comprehend.
As if that makes sense.
Anxiety, stress, a sense of everything tightening around me and no place to go. Difficulty breathing. And then tears leaking out of my eyes, morphing into sobbing. A "mom sob". What you do when you know the kids are in the next room, and you know that they'd freak out if they saw you crying. Especially when they ask, "What's wrong, Mom?" and you reply, "Nothing. EVERYTHING!"
I sat at the table and fell apart because I couldn't get a video converted. And the spiral of everything-that-is-wrong began in earnest. Things were named that have been lurking in my subconscious. All my fears and failures (that's in a song, isn't it? Points for the first one to name it...) All that was unknown. All that loomed before me; decisions and dilemmas.
A whole lot of stuff. Big stuff. Serious stuff.
I sent a text to a trusted friend. "I don't want to talk. I just need to say this, I need you to pray for me. I am overwhelmed...this is why...."
I named all that I could.
On Facebook, I jumped in on a conversation among a group of people - none of whom I have ever met in person. I asked them to pray for me.
My husband came home. So much of my fear and anxiety seemed to land on his head; it all had something to do with him, it seemed. It's not that he had done anything wrong or owned any blame - it's just that our lives are so intertwined, it's impossible to overlook the crossover.
And so, buoyed by prayer, tingling with tears, and shaking with anxiety, we started to talk. I was mad, pouty, snippy. And then I asked if we could go sit on the porch.
In the dark, snuggling in a wicker chair, I cried. I talked. I vented.
I just told him how scared I was, of all the things I couldn't manage, didn't understand, couldn't control, didn't know.
After a time, we sat together in the dark, and I reflected back on the message I heard at church tonight. God made us for companionship.
We are to carry each other.
I opened my mouth; my truth came out, along with fear and pain and hurt and anxiety. It came to rest and ascended on the prayers of friends known and unknown, and in the arms of somebody who promised for better or worse. Tonight might have been one of the worst, but the flip side is relatively easy to access.
Tonight, I am grateful.