The Day I Lost It (and Got It Back)

Well, I'm not sure if anyone had October 23rd in the pool for the day that I would finally have a full-fledged meltdown but if it was you, congratulations. Because yesterday, I lost it. 

Please don't panic, because I got it back. But for a little while there, I lost it. I REALLY lost it. Sobbing, screaming, panicking, hyperventilating, nausea, desperate prayer, it was all there. 

It wasn't anything major that set it off. It wasn't a particular anniversary. There wasn't some kind of crisis. It may have been a build up of little things: still no response from the pool company about winterizing my pool; one more letter telling me I'd filled out a form incorrectly or incompletely so they'd need more information before they could do what I needed to have done; I couldn't find my video of how to turn on the furnace; one more bill I hadn't expected arrived; one more memory jumped into my brain that tore my heart open yet again. Some of it might have been the kindness of friends and family, as I continue to receive gifts and letters of condolence and sympathy, which although comforting tend to bring all my emotions bubbling to the surface. 

But I suspect that I've just reached the point of realizing that things aren't going to change. It's not a situation like when my husband went on a business trip for a week and I had to manage both kids and the house until he got home. This is it. This is how it is from now on. No one is coming to rescue me and fix all the mistakes I've made and the stuff I've screwed up while I was in charge. I AM in charge, and any screwups are mine to deal with. 

I hate it. 

And I'm going to keep hating it. But I'm also going to keep doing it. Because there isn't another option. Life doesn't stop because I'm struggling. I can't put my kids' lives on hold while I get my act together. All I can do is keep putting one foot in front of the other and dealing with today's problems today. I've always been a worrier, and right now I have plenty to worry about. But I'm trying not to worry any more than I need to. 

I keep thinking about the Bible verse that says, "My grace is sufficient for you," so I looked it up. The complete verse, 2 Corinthians 12:9, says, "But he said to me, 'My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.' Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me." I hadn't realized (or at least, I had forgotten) that this verse is in the context of Paul talking about his "thorn in the flesh." We don't know exactly what this term refers to, but Paul describes it as being "a messenger of Satan, to torment me." Torment is a pretty strong word, so clearly, Paul was dealing with some stuff. And his response was not, "I am strong in the Lord, I can take this," but instead was more like, "I am weak, I can't deal with this alone." You and me both, Paul. I am weak. I can't deal with this alone. Human help is nice, and God bless my family and friends, I have a lot of it. But it's not enough. I need to rely on God's grace to get through this. 

And I will. But every now and then, I need to freak out a little bit. And that's okay. I'll be okay. But only by the grace of God.