It’s been a breakdown week. Mentally and emotionally I’m spent. Pushed to my limit until the breaking point seems so far behind me that even the thin ice is only sustaining itself on shattered shards. These days, these days have been too much. I put on the pretty face and the solid exterior, but my resolve has crumbled. Monday I melted. Into a pool of mascara and streaked cheeks, sinking to my kitchen floor, which his been so neglected that even the bread crumbs under the counter have sprouted legs. That floor is just one more reminder that I can’t do it all.
And tonight. Tonight was a battle of wills and disrespect. Hurtful words and screams for negative attension. It came at me from all sides, the captured audience of single parenting. It is so foreign to me. After all this time, after all my training and so called expertise, it still shocks me, renders me awestruck that a child would treat their parent in such a way. That the faucet of eye rolling, whip like words, tantrums, screaming and fake crying can be turned on at full force and just as quickly turned off. I should be beyond the surprise. Most days I think I’m just numb to it. But this week, tonight, I’m not.
There is no numbing my heart. There is no erasing the scars. The belittling voices and snears of hatered are burned into my soul. So I pray for mercy, and I pray for peace. I pray for the calm that never seems to come. I pray for the wisdom to mother beyond my instincts, and I pray for redemption for my wounded heart. I pray for the strength to make lunches for tomorrow and say bedtime prayers. And I pray for the grace that is promised to be new each morning.