So it's Saturday. My house is clean. My kids are laughing and playing outside and the sun is shining. I should be happy.
But I'm not.
I just want to have one of those days where you crawl into bed and read a book, or cry, or just sleep.
But I can't.
And I think I'm starting to figure out why I'm having this kind of day...
Sometimes the magnitude and reality of my situation really sinks in and I just get overwhelmed. It's not often, but when it happens I just feel hopeless. I hate feeling like that. And I'd say 95% of the time I am happy and optimistic, and ready to tackle anything.
But what I've started to realize is that my happiness seems to be directly proportionate to the amount of communication I have with Jason. I know it's so cliche, but he is my best friend. He's the person I tell everything to and he's the first voice I want to hear each morning and the last voice I want to hear each night. And he's just been missing for so long and sometimes it feels like he's never coming back. Our life is moving on without him here and it feels so strange that his abscence has become normal.
I know that a lot of the tough parts of my life right now are because of things that I chose, and some of them are because of things that chose me.
It would be hard enough to raise one set of twins but God gave me two sets. It'd be hard enough to deal with a deployment but Jason had a year of TDY tacked onto that. It'd be hard to just raise six children, but I've chosen to homeschool them and be present for them 24/7. It'd be hard to sell a house, but I'm selling one in a crappy housing market. It would be hard to worry about my husband's safety without having to worry about myself, but now I've got all these "what if" thoughts running through my head because of my recent health drama.
And yeah, things will turn out ok. I know it. They always do. But I am just having one of those days where I'm thinking too much. And that's just not good.
When I think too much, I psych myself out. The first time I took the kids grocery shopping by myself, I sat in the parking lot, terrified to go into the store. I thought too much about all of the things that could go wrong or how difficult it would be. I learned that I have to not think about it and just do it.
I hate feeling like the litmus test by which other people judge their own situations. Like "Heather has six kids and she does xyz so I should be able to do xyz." I'm so not a special person. Sometimes I'm not even a good person. I'm just doing the best I can with the life I've been given. And I feel guilty when I yell at my kids. I feel stressed when my house isn't clean. I feel pressure to be there for my kids whenever they need me. I feel the need to reach the unnaturally high standard that I've set for myself that might not be realistic. Sometimes I just want to be my old self... the person I was before I was a mother of six and a wife of a soldier and a circus sideshow. I just want to blend in so that when I have a day like today, nobody will know, nobody will care.
But... that's not my life anymore. And I love this life... I really, really do. But it's hard. And on days like today I feel like I'm doing too many things and that I'm not doing a great job with any of them. And then I feel crummy and the only person I want to talk to is 13,000 miles away.
But... there's always tomorrow.