DISILLUSIONED.
That’s how I’ve felt in life lately, like motherhood and the inconveniences and the events on the agenda are quicksand, and I am trying to wade through as fast as possible.
Tired.
I’m tired of living like this – like my life’s purpose is fighting to free myself from the mucky sand that’s entrapped me.
Guilty.
I’m guilty of reacting so poorly in it – snapping and yelling and holding onto bitterness – like it’ll make me feel better or justified in my misery.
Quicksand.
I do think that this little life, this season of it at least, might actually be a little like quicksand, but I’m approaching it the wrong way.
Research says that if you find yourself stuck in quicksand, the best idea is to actually lean back into it so that the weight of your body is distributed over a wider area.
I’m going to take their advice and lean into it. I’m going to trust that embracing the slowness and the messiness and the overstimulation won’t overtake me.
That floating through it is the only way out, and my perspective is the difference between sinking and floating.
And maybe being bogged down in this little life, for this little season, is a hard blessing and won’t last forever.
I’m allowing myself to become enchanted with my little life again, mess and all.
Because I’m positive one day I’ll be begging to jump back into the muddy puddle just to taste their little slobbery kisses and squeeze their pudgy toes and hear their little voices yell MAMA once again.
And until then, if you’re in the quicksand, remember – you’re not alone. I’m trying to float right next to you.
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