Ever since I went back to work almost three months ago, I’ve felt the push–pull. I absolutely feel I’m doing what I’m supposed to, and I find joy in the routine of my day. I like to go to work, I delight in watching my children’s happiness at their daycare, I’m contributing and growing in my professional life. Life feels full of wonderful, meaningful tasks. In general, it makes me happy. I feel fulfilled.

But then there are weeks like the one I’ve just had. To say it has been difficult would be an understatement. There have been a series of random, unrelated moments that have set me off course. On their own they are hard, put them together and they leave me reeling. They attest to the unpredictability of life, and remind me that nothing should be taken for granted. They ate up my days in a flurry of distraction that kept me from staying on track. I’ve gone to bed every night this week feeling like the day has been an emotional tidal wave.

I don’t do well when not on routine, when the unpredictability of life takes over. I suppose I’m like my children, I like to know what to expect. It keeps me on sure footing. It’s the rational part of me calling together all order. It propels me forward and makes the busyness of the days easier.

But right now I feel like I’m walking on a balance beam.

This is the place that I come to find meaning in words. This is the place I come to lay it all out so that I will learn more about myself. Today I come here just to say, enough! I can’t take any more.

I’d love to be able to share everything that is going on, but for now I can’t. I hope you’ll indulge me. I realize this post has little substance, and incites more questions than it answers. For now, I have to be vague.

And with that I hear a sick little baby crying out for me and so my day begins.


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