I confess, I’m tired. Exhausted. In my No Matter How Long It Takes post, I talked about working to get back to a “normal” routine after the better part of a year being riddled with one crisis after another. Well, not too long after publishing that article, one crisis popped it’s ugly head up, and it was the last one I would have chosen—the one that put my child in jeopardy.
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As you know from my At the End Was a Rainbow post, the last year has been riddled with crisis after crisis. Returning to a “normal” routine feels almost daunting—like where do I begin? The answer: one task at a time.
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Last week was hard…very hard. Hell Week at VMI concluded the Sunday before, and I was relieved that Tommy was at least past that step. Classes were set to start, and on the first day, there was bit of a snag. I tried to help Tommy but ended up making things worse. I felt terrible.
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Tommy, my oldest, matriculated at VMI this last Saturday. To say it was an emotional day would be an understatement. He was about to embark on the hardest, most challenging thing he’s ever done in his life so far—possibly ever. We all knew this going into it. The program is designed to find people’s limits and push them past them.
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The Texas freeze was two and a half months ago. It seems like a lifetime ago that we went twenty-three days without running water. Shortly after we got everything working again, we slowly eased back into pandemic normalcy (if that exists). My nine-year-old had fun cutting up a dead purple sage bush, and guess what he found on the branch…a chrysalis shell.
I’ll be honest, I was planning on skipping today’s post. April’s been a challenging month for me, and more and more I’m finding myself needing a break. I didn’t have a topic in mind let alone the ability to sincerely lift up anyone reading this. But that changed when I was talking with a friend last night.
I’m going to get right to the point: I can’t do everything. No matter how much I want or how many times I try, it’s not gonna happen. Period.
Okay, this isn’t technically a “fun” fact, but it’s one that needs to be shared…
I see a therapist. Have for several years. Once upon a time, it was taboo to speak those words. In some ways, I think it still is, which is why I’m telling you. Because it’s nothing to be ashamed of.
It’s no secret that the Texas storm last month was pure hell for us. Since February 15th, we’ve been “roughing it” with no running water (our plumber was able to get us a tiny bit a few days ago, though). To say it was hard would be an understatement. But yesterday, a miracle happened—our plumber got the pump working…
Disappointment is a touch pill to swallow, and I’ve received several, lately. Our water situation is at the top of the list. Every time we think we see the light at the end of the tunnel, some boulder comes by and blocks that passage. Let’s mix in PitMad and my agent search journey for good measure because, you know, the water thing isn’t enough. Yeah, I’m being sarcastic, but I need to in some ways because the urge to crawl under the covers and give up is so great. But I can’t…no matter how much I want to.