End of My Rope

“You’re blessed when you’re at the end of your rope.”

Matthew 5:3a, MSG

This is my "she won't quit fussing and I'm trying not to have a meltdown" face.

This is my “she won’t quit fussing and I’m trying not to have a meltdown” face.

The end of my rope. Yep. You could say that. I’m so far down my rope that I’ve slipped off the end and am careening towards certain death like Hans Gruber plunging from the 30th floor of Nakatomi Plaza. Or at least that’s how I feel these days. And I’ll admit, it hasn’t felt very “blessed”, not yet anyways.

I’m free falling in the dark. I feel like a shell; empty, useless, heavy…and sad. I often feel so sad. I don’t feel like myself. I don’t feel purpose. I don’t have goals. I don’t want goals. I want to sleep, that’s what I want.

Sleep and Whole Foods Jolly Beans. And wine. Damn you, Whole30.

Fracking Whole30. Ugh. Shawn and I are on Day 8 and so far all I’ve had is coffee and water. That’s super against the rules, and I should’ve eaten two meals today already. But, I’m throwing a small fit.

Food…certain foods (think Ben and Jerry’s, Chinese take out, Harvest Cheddar Sun Chips and Digiorno Stuffed Crust Supreme Pizza) have always been my greatest comfort. They’re always there for me, whether I’m happy, sad, lonely, angsty, or just snacky. It’s not easy explaining an emotional addiction to food to people who’ve never struggled with it. They think I’m being dramatic, or weak willed. So yeah, I’m angry, annoyed, what have you, that I’ve committed myself to this challenge during such a tumultuous time in my personal life. I appreciate the encouragement that “the cravings will pass”, “it’ll get better”, but for fuck’s sake, LET ME FEEL MY FEELINGS.

It’s so difficult having Nora. Not because of the tasks that are required of me (i.e. diaper changes, feedings, baths, attempting to soothe her fussiness, etc), but because I still have yet to land on that bond with her. Shawn’s there. He’s found it. I’m so grateful for that. He is so crazy about our daughter, and she is the luckiest girl for that.

But I’m just not there yet. For me, the good still doesn’t outweigh the bad. Of course then there’s the crushing guilt that follows those feelings. I suppose I’m probably not supposed to say all these things out loud, but if I don’t, how will anyone else know they aren’t alone?

My marriage is getting the shit kicked out of it right now. Never has there been such a distance between Shawn and me. We’re both exhausted to our very souls, both dealing with our own anxiety and depression demons. He is really trying to recover our bond. I’ve found it nearly impossible to reciprocate that effort.

I sent a letter to my dad a few weeks back, trying to explain my hurts while not placing any blame, and expressing hope for a reconciliation. The response was devastating. “I’m not doing this on her terms”. He told my sister, who had to tell me. Bless her, she’s been such a light to me lately.

I’ve started seeing a therapist. She’s wonderful. I can’t believe I haven’t been going to therapy for years already! She told me that I’m in the middle of a huge storm of grief, following a chain of losses these last five years. I can’t tell you how helpful it was to finally realize what I’ve been feeling all this time. Grief. Sure.

I added yoga back into my weekly routine after getting the all clear from my doctor last month. It’s been phenomenal. Although I’d been out of practice for several months, somehow, I felt stronger. I felt strength coming from the inside of myself, manifesting in my time on the mat. I’ve developed a distaste for vulnerability in certain areas of my life. (Clearly not in this one because I’m spewing all my personal matters to the internet.) But when I am in practice, I welcome that vulnerability. I welcome that brokenness and those cracks because it allows some healing to sneak through.

I’ve never experienced a season in life quite this one. It’s hard. It’s painful. It’s ugly. It’s (feeling) hopeless. But you know what else I think it is? Or what I think it will be when all is said and done?

Empowering. Strengthening. Nourishing. Maybe that’s where the blessings lay. Maybe that’s where the hope is being kept, stored up like treasure just waiting to be discovered and devoured.

So I’ve let go of the end of this slippery rope and while I’m tumbling into what feels like oblivion, I will summon all the effort I can to trust that Jesus has weaved an impenetrable safety net waiting to empower, strengthen, and nourish me.

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