Shiny Exteriors.

I have a great life

I have three kids who charm the pants off of everyone they meet.  Seriously.  They are all #adorbs when we are out and about.

I have a husband who adores me, and in his quiet nature he does his best to support whatever adventure I hurl our family down.

I work from home in pajamas, and since Paul is in school in the evenings, we spend most days together with our youngest.

We live in a pretty amazing house that we are currently renting, right in the heart of Minneapolis.

We found an amazing church, filled with people who are just waiting to get to know our little family.


Like I said.  I have a great life.

And yet.

Yet I find myself tired. All the time.  The kids tap into every ounce of self I have, and run me into the ground on a daily basis. I find that I am always spending my energy on them, only to get to the end of the day to feel like I missed it all, I messed up, I did it all wrong. I feel incredibly guilty that by the end of the day all I want in this world is a moment to breathe without someone asking me for something, or, heaven forbid, touching me anywhere for any reason.  I find myself screaming at the kids for things that are disobedient, yes, but also just poorly timed. They catch the steam when my vent finally releases, and it's never pretty.  Just the other day I blew up on my sweet, sweet Eli (who we have been butting heads with from time to time), and that episode ended with me crying on the bathroom floor telling Eli that I just didn't know what to do anymore.  Telling him, my son, that mommy was tired, and that mommy just didn't have anything left to argue with.  If I focus on one child, I feel ashamed that the other two might have ended the day feeling left out.  I get so tired with the never ending cycle of housework, and at times feel so incredibly claustrophobic when I am knee deep in laundry that needs to be folded that I want to scream. I feel ashamed that I let myself get to over 200 pounds, but at the same time, just don't have the will or the energy to care. That leaves me feeling incredibly self conscience, and the anger I feel for myself comes out in waves to the ones I love the most.  I struggle with eating healthy because food is the one consistent in my life.  Take out will always make me feel good for the 20 minutes it takes me to eat it. And it requires no patience, no energy to make, I don't have to put it to bed, I don't have to struggle to get it to shower every other day, I don't have to try and keep it contained at a three hour long function when all it wants to do is run and play.  It is well behaved and delicious and the sugar goes straight to my brain and my brain sighs in relief.  It is an addiction because parenting is hard, and brutal, and tiring, and frustrating, and panic-inducing.

I work in a job that is reliant on my ability to keep up an energy level that is sometimes exhausting.  Even though the women I work with are incredible, I find it hard to keep my own yearning for success in check.  When I feel left out, my mind immediately reconciles it with my own lacking and OF COURSE no one would want to respond or chat or work with you.  Why would they?  You are lacking.  You are lacking in your parenting, and your wifing, and your job.  You cannot offer what people need because you don't even know what YOU need.  You are nothing.  And they all know.

I lay awake at night with my eyes closed and let these voices berate me.  I let them sling the cruel words at me because I believe I deserve it.  I believe it, because I see the other women. I see them succeeding in life, in mommying, in wifing, in their job, in their house.  And I turn inward and see every bump that I have hit, every scar I have taken on, every bit of damage I have done to others.  I see the hurt I have caused, and so I let the voices whisper their sweet lies into my ear, and I nod and cry and take it all in.  Because I know the people I love would never tell me those things. But maybe they should.


And yet.

And yet through all that truth, there is Truth.  There are whispers of Grace and candles of Hope.  There is an acceptance of my brokenness and Love despite of it. There is a Voice that tells me that yes, you are broken, but you are Mine.

I say all this to tell you that I am me.  I am broken and messy and living life the best I can at any given moment.  What I put on Facebook is real, but it's not the whole story.  But, though I know it in my head, my heart forgets that the same is probably true for you.  And when I talk with you and hear you laugh about hard times and despair, a part of me shrivels back, because I am there, I am there, and the last thing I want to do is laugh.

Maybe we can do each other a favor. When I ask how you are, I will give you the space if you need to say, Not Good.  And if I can, I will tell you if I have been there too. And I will tell you that the shame and frustration you are feeling are not uncommon, and that they are temporary.  And I will tell you life is not blessed because of everything being tucked away nicely.  Life if blessed because, despite the mess, despite the brokenness, we are Loved, and we are Cherished.  And so maybe it would be easier to drop the appearance of it being neat and tidy, because we set the standard for ourselves when we decide who's messy is too messy or too real.  And it just makes everything so much harder than it has to be.

So maybe today, if I am right and I am not the only one who is being choked by the loneliness that brokenness can bring, know that you are understood. And that you are doing a good job.  And that even if the day ends in tears, that you did OK, and that tomorrow will come.  And that there is a God who literally died to be with you, knowing full well every inner turmoil you are feeling.  And that the ONLY thing he asks of us is to trust in Him not only in our mess, but in our beautiful spots as well.

And yet.  Two little words. There is always another side to the coin.