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Last night when I went in to tell my nearly 15-year-old daughter 'good night' she was in tears. She had just realized her school year really was over, and that she wouldn't be in her favorite class ever again. It was like all at once it came out for her, and I just sat and hugged
her while she talked and cried. I tried not to cry because I wanted it to be her moment, but my heart just broke on a level I never thought possible. As a parent, I want nothing more than to protect her from all of this, and last night I realized even if I stand in front with my
chainsaw out, I can't stop what's happening. I can tell her it's going to be ok, that school will start back in the fall, that she'll get to play with her orchestra again but I have never felt so powerless. Eventually, she stopped crying because her nearly 13-year-old brother was
in the next room cursing at his video game (I think it was Minecraft but who knows) and both of us started laughing. I wiped her tears and tucked her in ... something I hadn't done in probably a year or more, you know since she's 'growing up, mother'. I told my mouthy son good
night and tried to tell him I LOVE YOU before he could mute his headset so his friends could hear me and embarrass him, then I crawled into bed and really cried. I mean REALLY. The mister gave me my space and let me really get it all out, just resting his hand on my back.
I can't explain how broken I felt at that moment, it's really hard to put into words, but the defeat in my spirit was overwhelming. Not sure if you've noticed but I tend to be somewhat of a fighter ... I know, you're shocked. Welp, last night I felt beaten. Like there was nothing
I could do to stop this. When I was well & truly all cried out my husband wiped my tears and tucked me into bed which was ironic and wonderful all at the same time. After he fell asleep I laid there for a long time, thinking, and trying to get my fire back. To get my fight back.
After about an hour of arguing with myself and trying to make lists of 'to do' so I felt like I was doing SOMETHING, I just finally gave up and prayed. I talked to God for a long time, longer than my usual nightly prayer, and I just asked him for strength to get through. And you
know, there was something very freeing and empowering in realizing that I can't always do things on my own and that something like this is bigger than me. I finally fell asleep with the snoring corgi on one side and the snoring hubby on the other ... and I slept hard. When I woke
up this morning, for the first time in probably a month, I didn't have to argue with myself about getting out of bed. I didn't dread reading the news or starting my work, I felt almost good. Strong even. It occurred to me that maybe I needed to break a little so I could reach out
to a bigger and more powerful 'force' than myself. It reminded me of when my daughter was in the NICU, and how much I talked to God every night... funny how she was the one who brought this out for me, again. I am more determined than ever to fight for my family, my country, and
my God. And sure, I'm still sad inside and I cried writing this (and wow, it's long, sorry!) but I wanted to share because I tend to pretend I'm invincible and that nothing gets to me, and I'm not sure that helps anyone out there who feels broken, like I did last night.
Thank you for being a friend, thank you for reading and supporting me, and thank you for giving me yet another reason to keep fighting. Because that's what this is.
A fight.
One we can't lose.
A fight.
One we can't lose.
