I feel like I'm on a roller coaster.
And not a fun one either, more like the kind that makes you want to throw up. Honestly, I hate roller coasters, always have. I think it's the lack of control and unnerving anticipation of my stomach seemingly going up into my chest that makes me want to black out.
Three months ago I had it all mapped out. I knew where we were going for vacation, which birthdays were coming up and who had doctor appointments. I was in control (or so I thought).
I grumbled to my friends about being too busy. Conversations were plentiful comparing calendars, schedules and how late we stayed up trying to squeeze it all in, as if sleep deprivation were some kind of badge of honor. "If only things would just slow down," I would say.
And then ... it did.
And it's here, in this uncharted territory of SLOW where it feels anything but. It feels chaotic. Emotional. LIFE has become a roller coaster.
One minute I'm up - I'm happy and content. Grateful and savoring up these little moments together.
The next I'm wanting it all to end. I'm trying to unbuckle my seat and crawl out of the harness. Hit the E brake. Someone. Anyone. For the love.
This place of uncertainty and what if's? It has me on edge.
Some days I feel like I've got it together, while other days I feel like I'm coming unhinged. Who am I kidding? Most days it's a matter of hours or minutes. I've cried over toilet paper and online grocery orders. I've cried for my three year old who misses his Mamo and Papa, and myself - a grown adult who would give anything to just sit and talk with a friend or hug my mamma. I've cried over work as my toddler begs me not to have another meeting.
I've cried over my inability to keep it together; to master this change and do it juggle it all.
But sis, can listen to me. You're doing just fine. I don't care how many times you cried today or how much of the kids Easter candy you stole, you're OK. It's OK to feel. It's OK to not be a stoic statue of perfection.
It's OK if you feel happy one minute and sad the next. If you cry in the shower because you're touched out and it's all just a little too much togetherness for one day. It's OK if you desperately want to go for a drive or wander aimlessly through TJ Maxx ALONE. If you're grateful for FaceTime, but long for physical connection and a hug.
You don't have to savor every moment of this. You can be both.
You can be happy, yet sad.
Fearful and content.
Grateful and overwhelmed.
Tired and fulfilled.
It's not one or the other. It's not black and white. It's OK to say some days you're hanging on by a thread. I am too.
This waiting place? It isn't easy. There are so many unknowns, but the one thing I'm certain of through it all ... it's this -
You aren't alone. In your feelings, in your emotions and stress. In your happiness and thankfulness. In all of it.
We're all just doing the best we can. One day at at a time. One foot in front of the other.
It's OK if you want off the roller coaster. If you're tired of the waiting place. I am too, sis. I am, too.