I'm sitting here, watching a big snowfall for at least the third time this season. It's predicted we'll receive 4-6 inches this morning. I wish I didn't have to get out, but Bubba has an appointment in Fort Worth this afternoon, Lily needs to be picked up and Reagan needs to have her glasses replaced. It seems I always have to go out when I'd just rather stay in bed and do nothing.
Except lately, there's not much else I'd rather do than stay in bed. I don't feel....right. I'm tired and melancholy all the time. More short-tempered than usual and I feel like the weight of the world is on my shoulders. I don't seem to have the motivation to even do the things I like to do. In the last 3 weeks, we have been to the pediatrician's office at least 10 times, with 2 trips to the emergency room. I have been to the doctor twice myself.
The clean laundry is piled up on the couch, there are 2 piles of dirty clothes on the floor in the living room and the washer and dryer are both full right now. When was the last time any routine housecleaning was done? The kitchen is in desperate need of being cleaned and here I sit. Watching it snow.
I guess I'm in a "hard season". I really hate there's a label for this. It should make me feel better, you know, knowing others have been here, but it doesn't. How long does this season last? Until my last kid is potty trained? In school? In college? Married? I feel like things have been hard for a while, but I don't see any end to it. I wonder if I've been sold a bill of goods that all women must stay home and raise a house full of kids for their lives to have some meaning. If you don't love being a mom, there must be something wrong? I just wonder if God really wants me to go through life feeling like the biggest failure because I can't manage to get the laundry out of the freakin' living room. I don't know if I'm ever going to get to the point where I can say, "oh well" to the mess. But I'm over other people taking their interpretation of things and applying it to my life. And I'm done accepting it.
So I'm stuck. Stuck at home with kids spending every single day feeling like a complete failure and finding no joy in life. The answer cannot possibly be to try harder. I realize that God loves me no matter how big the laundry pile is or (fill in the blank), and my worth is not measured by that, but honestly, I don't love me. For some reason, I cannot see myself the way He does. I know I'm not alone in this, but it definitely feels like it.