It’s a little bit dark over here.
Not dark in Darwin. No it’s pretty sunny, and of course hot.
Dark in my mind. I seem to be stuck in some kind of hole, and my Zoloft is doing very little to help me out of it.
The main result is that I feel like I’m not doing anything very well. My floors seems constantly dirty, my washing un-ironed, and my clothes too tight.
And then there are the kids.
Did you know I have four?
Four little people all with loud voices, and a thousand words to say every day, and the desire to be number one. Four hearts that need training, and guiding, and instructing, and reminding. Four mouths that need feeding. Four minds that need nurturing. Four bodies that need cuddling. Four…..
And one of me.
No wonder I feel like things aren’t going very well.
So I have been trying to avoid writing any kind of parenting posts. Obviously I am completely unqualified to offer any kind of advice at all. In fact, I should probably just stop writing now, and go to bed.
But I won’t.
When I found out I was expecting Taylah, it forced me to reevaluate my life, and think about the decisions I had been making.
And the one thing I was clear about, was that I did not want to bring my baby up in a world without God.
Yes I was angry with God. We had ‘had words,’ so to speak, but I knew in my heart that He was also the good in all the good in me, and that was more important than my temper tantrum.
For the longest time, it was my unborn child that kept me going to church; that kept me reading my bible. I was waiting to be inspired, hoping that soon I could get over the hurt and see something real. Because I knew I was a farce, and that my baby would think I was a farce too.
She would grow up and have a hypocrite for a mother, and that would be worse than living in a Godless house.
I don’t know when it happened. I think it was a gradual thing, but eventually, the light crept through my night, and it all became real. I was doing this not for a fetus, but for me. For God. I knew this truth, and I wanted to follow it.
I feel like I’m back in that dark place right now. Not angry at God or the world, but just lost, and trying to be something for my kids that I can’t see that I am.
I tell them they are beautiful just the way they are, and yet behind closed doors I change my outfit continually, and glare at myself in the mirror.
I tell them they can do anything they want to, or be anyone they dream, and yet I can barely send out sponsorship requests for DPCON, because I don’t think I’m worth being sponsored.
I tell them being different is a good thing; a great thing. A beautiful thing.
And yet this morning, I chose not to write about three posts that were in my head because I knew that the were ‘too different.’
I tell them all all the time to be content with what they have, and not look at what they don’t. And yet my house is too small and the weather too hot, and I would move from Darwin in an instant given the right opportunity.
And so, it turns out after all, that I am a bit of a hypocrite.
An imperfect person, making mistake after mistake, and living her life in a depression fuddled haze, trying to move forward, trying to be better, and yet not seeming to get anywhere at all.
I’m waiting for the light to break through. I’m waiting for a change. I know it will come. It came before, it will come again.
My God is faithful
Weeping may endure for a night, but joy comes in the morning.
So I’m waiting for the morning.
And in the mean time, I keep telling my girls they are beautiful, and I choose one outfit, and look in the mirror and tell myself the same thing.
I keep telling them they can do anything, even when it’s hard, even when it’s scary, and I send out media kits, and letters, and requests, and show them you can face your fears.
I tell them it’s ok to be different, and I write about my faith. Because it is who I am, and it is the best bit of me.
And because I won’t be a hypocrite. I refuse to be.
I tell them to be content, and I look at ways to create more space, and the things about Darwin that I love, and when that’s a bit hard I turn on the air con.
And a little bit crazy.
For them. For you. For me.
And the light will come.