The State of Things

I think I’ve said the phrase “I can’t take much more of this” or “I’m literally at the end of my rope” more times than I should have. I probably thought I meant it each time I said it. I probably felt like that moment in time was an epic disaster that I would never survive. And each time I come to a new end-of-my-rope moment in my life, I look back at those past moments as laughable. Sure, it’s all part of growing up and those moments were points of stretching and expanding. I do understand (to an extent) the process that we all go through to become who we are. If I’m forced to, I can look back at most of those times and see the good in them, the good results. The learning. My main complaint is – why do these moments seem to keep getting worse? I cried more this weekend than I care to remember. I don’t want to be all “woe is me” about it because I know we’ve all got problems. Most of the people in my life are facing one or more situations that are overwhelming and life swallowing. I know that by many standards, I’ve got it pretty good...and I agree, I do. If I had to write out a list of good things I’ve got going, it would be a long, long list. But it’s the short list that’s keeping me awake at night. It’s the short list that wearing me down to a bloody nub. It’s the short list that’s leaving me short of breath and patience and will. I’ve had a few friends say “I wonder what it is that God is trying to teach you?” which makes me want to either stomp on their toe or lock myself in my bedroom with no plans of ever coming out. I know they mean well, even know they may be right. I know this time in my life might be a “season” or whatever. I know I haven’t been truly abandoned. I know all of this just might push me to be a better person or more of a grown-up or a better parent someday. But that does not change the fact that I’m in it right now. Up to my hairline. I’ve already passed the point of gasping breaths and now I’m just holding my breath, underwater, waiting for the end. Ok, that sounds drastic, but it is how I’m feeling. There seems to be no end in sight. No answers. No healing. And yet I’m constantly battling with myself about it all, telling myself that it’s not so bad and things will get better and I have much to be thankful for. I tell myself to suck it up. Then I cry some more and worry that I just might actually be at the end of that stupid rope.

I once wrote and taught a class about feeling hopeless. About that feeling of being in the bottom of a well, and no one can hear you. No one’s throwing you a rope. If I remember correctly, I do think I was honest with the class that I didn’t have all the answers. That there’s no such thing as a 10-Step process to overcoming despair. That the one thing I could give them was the story of Hope – that we have access to a Savior who never disappoints (although the surrounding “religion” can sometimes tirelessly disappoint).

I think the hard part for me is, even with all that information, all that truth, life can still knock me senseless.