Don't judge me, but I'm about to reference Grey's Anatomy. I was watching last week and I had a little revelation. I'll call it a little revelation because, right now, every day day presents small, eye-opening incidents. Plus, Shonda Rimes has a way of making her viewers fall in love with the characters and then she does crazy things to them, like plane crashes.
Grey's Anatomy viewers the world over have been saddened by the plane crash that killed off some of our favorite characters. The first few episodes of this season have been no fun, all drama. We've all be mourning with Meredith and Derek and Christina and Callie as if their losses are our losses. And then, when you least expect it, Miranda Bailey has a human moment. In the vortex of all the awful that's swirling around her, she's worried about her little boy letting go of her hand. A small problem compared to what everyone else is dealing with. But the chief cared. Someone cared.
For about 13 weeks exactly, I have been a mess of a person working hard to figure it all out on my own. Outside, I'm a functioning adult caring for an almost 5 month old, working a job that I love, and living the perfect life with my awesome husband. And yes, with the right perspective, it is all perfect. Maybe I'm lacking the right perspective.
Or maybe I'm having a human moment.
A meaningless conversation with a good friend sends me into a panic because it is just that. Meaningless. And certainly the hallway at work is not where you answer the question, "How are you?" with, "I'm staying awake at night worrying over the future of every relationship I have, including ours. I am a walking trap of anxiety, disappointment, and guilt. I can't really breathe."
No, meaningless is not doing it for me right now. I need a good run with a good friend.
I am about to pay someone to have that conversation with me that I used to be able to have with a friend. And that makes me a little nauseous. But I can't keep staying awake at night and coming home from work with furrowed brows. These thoughts can not keep ruminating in my head.
Parenthood is hard, whether we are home or away or single or married or rich or poor. Parenthood is hard, not because we are doing it wrong. Just because its hard. Like life. Like friendship. All are hard because we love them so much. We love life and we love parenthood and we love our friends, and so we want to do it right.
But I'm not sure there is a way to do it right. We just listen to life as it makes demands and we respond thoughtfully and we remember that, sometimes, the more out of control things feel, the better. Because then it is less easy to pretend we are in control.
We are not in control. We're just not.
I am a mama and a wife and a sister and a friend and a neighbor and I am very shareable. I am making time and making myself available.
You, too. You are enough. You can be shared, and all who share you can have enough.
We must think abundance when it comes to ourselves. There is enough to give and enough to keep.
And, finally, lately, this is where my broken heart lies. Not quite okay with where I am. Logically, realistically, I know. I know that I've got it good. But that doesn't make it sting any less. It doesn't make the transition any easier.