I broke down this past week.
My mind has been spinning.
I’ve been so completely overwhelmed.
It’s been weeks since I’ve been at church and I so covet the time with my spiritual family.
The season is beginning to change and the grief I work so hard to keep under control throughout the Summer months, begins to stir in my belly and violently shakes the broken part of my soul awake.
It’s relentless and callous.
It knows no mercy and holds back absolutely nothing.
I’ve said a million times in every lifetime I’ve lived, that the glass I carry, no matter what it’s filled with, is looked at as half full, never half empty, but oh my God…The Fall.
As beautifully significant the leaves are, as they lay upon the cold wet streets. They have “fallen” none the less.
The once bloomed and vibrant color of life, in the sunshine of Summer has gone, and change begins to chill the air, turning crisp and cold. And again I become my own worst enemy as I fight to keep myself from becoming the same way.
A constant battle to refrain from becoming cold, callous and bitter because of this grief I carry and wear as a cloak around my neck.
Normally I can dig deep and remind myself of who I am.
A fighter.
A woman who has risen a thousand times over from the ashes of life’s cruel punches and do over’s.
A believer in faith that moves the biggest of mountains.
A mother who will fight to give her children a glimmer of hope at a new and fresh beginning.
But there’s something about the season of Fall.
The name itself shows intent.
I brace myself for it every year, but every time I fail.
Falling to pieces just like the leaves.
I feel myself losing my mind and falling apart wondering: Am I EVER going to have my shit together?
I’m terrified and frightened by the fact that when a little bit of light is showing and I feel a ray of hope in this darkened season, the crisp cool air reminds me of the bitterness about to come and an avalanche of emotion knocks me backward.
Honestly, with every Fall season it gets harder and harder and harder to go through this battle. I don’t want anymore do over’s or fresh starts, I NEED settled.
My precious children need a sense of security. But instead they get lessons in:
“people come and go”
“smile through the pain”
and never feeling rooted anywhere.
We get forgotten and tend to wear out welcomes and a sense of “home” is lost in translation.
They’ve seen me cry and break down more so this time, than any other time that we’ve had to crawl into yet, another “do over” season and it sucks soo bad.
I’m starting to break.
I’m spinning out of control.
I’m so overwhelmed.
Barely Breathing,
Cheryl
Gesuschic 