a post. finally.

We are in the car, and I am not driving. So I thought I would take this time where I do not have any chickens to chase, dogs to scold, children to teach, or floors to scrub – to write some words.

I have nothing in particular to talk about. How about just some random? We all know random is what I do best.

Today I woke up with some terrible anxiety. The thing with anxiety is it isn’t rational. Ever. It started with thinking about my 11 year old daughter, and a picture I posted of her on Instagram yesterday from when she was five.

And all of a sudden I couldn’t breathe and the tears just came in torrents. 

I don’t remember five. I don’t know what silly things she said or did. Is she still as wild and carefree today as she was the day I took this picture?

A week after this picture was taken we started our homeschool journey.

Did homeschooling ruin her silly, happy heart? Did I ruin her silly, happy heart?

If she was five in this picture, Ali was two. I don’t remember two year old Ali. How do I not remember?!?

And the tears. They just wouldn’t quit.  I started pacing my living room.  Not knowing how to make it go away. So I went in and grabbed my running clothes and running shoes, I got in my car, and drove to the pathway.

Tears were still streaming down my face.

Why can’t my girls be little again? I would be a better mama this time around?

I parked the car, got out, and set out for a run in 34 degrees. I was so cold. I almost hoped I’d go numb. Numb would mean all the feels would be gone. Please.

Soon all this junk from my past came to the surface, as it does every now and again, and I am reminded of the failure of a wife, mama, sister, friend, person that I am. I felt like I was choking, this made the panic even worse.

Finally, I just started crying out loud to the Lord. 

“Please, Lord. Please make these thoughts go away. Please free me from the burden that is who I am and who I’ve been. Replace these thoughts with memories of my girls’ childhood. Please.”

As if running isn’t exhausting enough as it is, being mentally bombarded just depletes a person. My three of hours of sleep helped nothing.

Slowly my breathing got back to a norm for my running pace. But now I was fighting to keep running. I wanted to just be done. But I also want to drop 20 lbs. haha. To do that, I have to keep running. So I ran the four miles I planned.

Running, and my farm animals, are my therapy.

I’m not sure what it is about sitting with my animals that calms me, but each time I do, I just find myself smiling. And happy. I mean, just look at those beasts. Aren’t they gorgeous? They are happy, content creatures.

I want to be like them.

Hoping one day to be free from the anxiety that plagues me. I’m tired of being tired.

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