Earlier today I read a post by my girl Lora.
She was talking about the blogging funk she's been in and I can totally relate rite now.
Six months ago I couldn't get enough, I had so much to say and to get out.
I loved getting to know you all, and for all of you to get to know me.
That hasn't changed.
What has changed is through these past few months I think I'm becoming withdrawn a little, maybe a little quiet.
I've really been praying to see the lesson in this awful, terrible, no good, very very bad "season" in my life.
I feel like God keeps telling me to be quiet and listen.
Through my time with PJ I spent a few weeks crying, and trying to figure out how the hell this could happen to me.I had a beautiful home filled with pottery barn, floors you could eat off of, I baked every day, and cooked every meal for my husband. I hosted play groups, spent time with my girl friends, spent evenings playing with Adaline and exercising with Alysha. Nights were spent with a glass of wine with my husband, and weekends were spent snuggling, or hiking, or landscaping and cleaning. We threw parties and had BBQ's every weekend. We had so much fun. And our life was perfect. At least that's how it looked, at least that's what everyone thought. It wasn't perfect, it wasn't even close.
I am a control freak. Vacuum lines not being perfectly defined, or tooth paste splattered on the mirror could send me into a tail spin. Grass on the floor from wet feet coming out of the pool would literally send me on a cleaning frenzy on the verge of a panic attack. I was a maniac. I lost myself. I lost so many precious moments with my sweet Adaline because I was more worried about the grout not being what enough. I lost who I was, I lost the ability to laugh. I lost my friendship with my husband. I lost my best friend. Most importantly I lost sight of God.
Blogging has become hard in my quiet time. Having friends has been hard. And I have lost a couple very good ones, but I've also found some old ones again. I remember why I love them, they remind me of when I was happy and being with them is so effortless. They're my safe place. My family is my safe place. I feel so fortunate for this home I have been able to come home to while I figure out what to do next, while I find myself again and lick my wounds. This doesn't so much feel like my safe place any more. It did. I loved being able to type away and know that no one I knew was going to see it. All of you would, but it was our little secret. Now that The King has read my blog...it doesn't feel anymore. Everything I write I think about wether or not he's reading it and what he would think...do I really want him to know how raw and broken I still am?
Anyways, the point is I'm having trouble finding my voice...or hearing it I guess. I'm stuck in the quiet place. I'm lonely even in a room full of people. I feel so much guilt for my life falling apart, for Adaline not having her father...and I can't get over it.