Killing Me

Today is killing me with it's have-to's. Responsibilities weigh heavily on my soul. I pay my bills, wondering where our tax refund went so quickly. 

Then I remember: health and medical stuff not covered by insurance, clothes and shoes for the ever-growing children, clothes for the shrinking husband (he's lost a lot of weight over the past year!), homeschool stuff, camp, fixing vehicles, obtaining and registering a vehicle, memberships, a few treats here and there, probably too many books, and stocking our shelves with necessities, and I fell thankful for all that we were able to buy, to do, and for being able to pay all our bills without deciding which one this month. We are truly blessed.


Today is killing me with anxiety and the feeling like I want to crawl out of my skin. I'm fidgety - wanting to get up and do one minute and sinking into bed just wanting rest the next. My mind is either racing from one thought to the next as I try to take hold of just one idea or completely shut off and not working. I'm hungry, but not for anything we have and thirsty - so thirsty I feel unable to slake my thirst. All day, I've been drinking water, tea, water, water, water. 

And then I realize that oh-so-far-away yesterday - these days with five sick kids have been endless - I was blessed to have had a massage. With me, with things like massage or chiropractic work, more than muscle stress and tension gets released - as my body releases toxins,and my relaxed musculoskeletal system acclimates itself, my mind releases all sorts of stress and energy as well. 

Today is killing me with its seeming endlessness. All five of my kids are still somewhat under the weather, one very much so, two with lots of energy, but a cough that stops them in their tracks, and two somewhere in the middle. Few have been up to taking care of their household responsibilities, and everything is so far behind. Trying to play catch-up promises to wreak havoc on my health, so I'm trying to take it slow and easy and yet accomplish as much as possible, all the while trying to keep my OCD at bay. 

Then I look around in gratitude, for the blanket and pillow nest built by little hands in the living room serves as a reminder of the happily chirping children who played and red and rested in it for hours this afternoon and the stack of books and games on my bed stand as witnesses to the hard work of play and adventure that were shared. 



Today is killing me with joy - my heart just may burst. My kids may be sick, I may not have money in the bank, my body and mind may not know what to do with themselves, and my house may be a disaster area, but in all these things there is so much joy to be found. 


Sometimes it is only when we're at the end of our rope that we can see the beautiful web of life's joys that surround and support us.