It's been a long week. The kind when your emotions are up one minute and down the next. A rollercoaster, as they say.
For the most part, I don't talk about how I'm feeling on social media. Most of the time, I don't even talk about them within my small circle of friends. Not because they don't care. Why blab about my issues? Aren't their issues equal with mine? Why add mine to theirs?
Also, it feels weird saying anything. Sometimes, I just want to say I feel icky in my heart without any comments returned. I'm not looking for advice or consoling or anything. I just need to say it so that it's out.
Feelings aren't facts. I know this to be true. I know they can be misleading. I know they can be flat out wrong. I know they can sway rationality into irrantionality. Feelings are strong. They push and pull and grab and claw.
They make things worse than what they really are.
They make it hard to be still and know.
They cloud truth. Create doubt. Feed insecurities.
All that to say, yeah, it's been a long week. I wish I had answers. More often than not, I'm left with more questions.
Psalm 118:5. And in my anguish, I cried out to the Lord and He rescued me by setting me free.
I'm crying out, but what does freedom look like? Another answer I don't have at the moment.
For now, I'm a forty-six year old housewife with a husband, two kids, four cats who still loves carbs way more than she should.
Maybe the take away is you do your best with what you have and hope with all the hope that is in you that it's enough. Not for anyone else, but yourself. One can hope, right?
Okay, that's enough of my rambling melancholy heart poured out.
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