I’ve gotta be honest with you, the few readers who still visit this blog (heck, I don’t even visit my own blog very often anymore): it’s really felt like a rough few months. I think I’m living through one of those times where life is testing my breaking point.
In addition to the anxiety of the adoption, I have a dear family member who suddenly got very ill, very fast. There were early warning signs, but none of us picked up on it until it all went so horribly bad. I come from a small but close family and to see one member suffer like that is truly heart-wrenching. As a result, I’ve had to drop everything, and spend some time back “home”.
DH has been my rock through this. I thought I knew what despair felt like, but I was taken to a place where I no longer knew what was right or wrong. I couldn’t rely on my research skills to find new technologies, my values made no difference and my faith just didn’t seem to give me the answers I was looking for. Without answers or options, doesn’t it feel like there’s no hope?
I soon learned to take each moment — not even each day, but each MOMENT — as it comes. It’s hard and it feels like you’re closing your eyes and hoping you don’t step off a cliff. My family member is now slowly recovering, so I’m thankful. But I don’t know what the future will bring.
This has brought on so much anxiety in my life. I couldn’t concentrate on the work I was finally able to bring in consistently. I lost a client somewhere along the way. I wasn’t sleeping. Even now when I do sleep, I have terrible dreams.
Did I also mention that, on top of it all, we’re moving? We’ve finally bought a house (before all of this happened). What should be a happy time for me is just… not.
I’ve tried to stay strong throughout all this. One of my favorite songs (by one of my favorite artists, Kate Bush) has this line
“I should be crying but I just can’t let it show; I should be hoping but I can’t stop thinking…”
Well, that’s where I’m at.
For the last five years, my one and only wish has been to hold a child in my arms and call them “mine”. I still want a child so badly it aches, but all my prayers now are focused on healing the loved one who’s here with me now.