I need a minute. Or maybe two.
Just to catch my breath again.
These past few weeks, these past few months even, have been…unimaginably difficult. And truthfully, there’s no end in sight.
I need a moment of stillness. Of peace, and stillness…and quietness.
No fires to put out.
No emergencies. Or hospital stays. Or crises.
I need a minute.
To realize that I’m okay. That nothing is on fire.
Just for today, for this hour…for this minute….nothing is burning down around me. That I am safe. I am not alone. And I can breathe. And feel safe.
I have grieved for 3/4 of my children in a very immediate and significant way these past 2 weeks. And the 4th child in the equation? He’s the one I’m most worried about today. The one the most in crisis.
Catching my breath…as a special needs parent of 3 boys…as a birth mom to an absolutely amazing now 10 year old…and as a wife to someone who needs me to not only build him up…but hold him up…..
It seems, ironically so…as if I just can’t get a deep enough breath.
I didn’t intend the metaphor when I started writing this post.
My boys have been hospitalized with respiratory failure for the last few weeks.
Catching their breath has been the problem.
My lungs are stronger than theirs. Marginally so….for now.
Yet still….I find myself unable to breathe. Unable to relax.
Unable to grieve. Or feel.
Or function.
Nothing feels good…or safe…or okay.
I need to catch my breath.
But my life is a marathon. And there are no significant rest stops along the way.
The best life has to offer is a banana and a pat on the back.
But we keep going.
We keep running.
But all I so desperately need is that safe place…just to breathe. Just to feel.
To process. And to grieve.
I just need a moment to catch my breath.
So…life? If you could just…chill for a moment?
That would be great.
All I need is a moment. Or 10.
Or maybe 20.
Please….just let me catch my breath.
