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When Life Is Too Much: The Children Are Our Why

This year, though we’re only halfway through, has been too long and too difficult both globally and personally. Too much to process. My head spins and my heart sinks. Words escape me, feelings move in and stay, I’m trying hard not to fall apart. I feel blank inside…just blank.

The days feel way different. I have to search for normal and barely recognize it when I see it. Far too many changes and adaptations, and I’m overly stretched in my efforts to be flexible. I’m over this. I miss the world I used to know. This one feels too scary and too sci-fi.

Nights bring little relief. Sleep is so hard to come by. When I wake up, I’m too tired to start another day, and why bother? They all run together and they look the same anyway. Stay home, stay safe, stay sane. Easy for you to say. This is too much.

Loneliness in the Blank Spaces

I can see the lonely faces (really only the eyes) when I venture out to a store. I also see fear and distrust, and I feel the tension we all carry. I’ve seen the meltdowns over masks, the impatient waits, the edges we are teetering on. And then rushes in the rage and the hurt and the disgust over issues of inequality and mistreatment. We are a mess! This is too much.

Most days I’m focused on getting through one small (sometimes really small) step at a time. I still things to write in my journal of gratitude. But most days I function from the rote places, things I know are healthy habits and choices to make. The disconnect is noticeable and uncomfortable. Getting used to the new normal is crazy hard. I’m not sure if I’m fighting the world or fighting myself.

Then…I let go. It truly is what it is, whether I like it or not. I move closer to learn more. I find space to just be, to think, to feel, to mourn, to laugh. I’m pretty sure laughter would be impossible if it weren’t for my grandkids. They live in joy and remind me what that looks like.

The Children Are Our Why

And suddenly, the hardship isn’t too much anymore. I remember why the effort is necessary. It’s because of these tiny hearts beating in our children, who are our future, who need us to show them the way. These sweet souls, if noticed and nurtured and cherished, will grow up to lead this world no matter how crazy. What we pour into them will be the foundation that forms their direction, and hopefully, we’ll give them more good than bad, more courage than fear, more hope than despair.

That’s why I’m fighting. They are my why. So I tune out the noise, focus on the why, and choose to be a part of the change. We need change and each other. Change starts small and it starts at home, caring for and sheltering the tiny hearts that will grow to be the future.

Kim Ferren

Kim lives in the great state of Texas with her husband of almost 40 years. They have 3 grown kids and 3 sweet grandkids, whom they enjoy being young with. She has worked as a therapist for 20 years, but has been practicing the craft of writing for about 40. She is a lover of people, experiences, and words. Having walked alongside many in their struggles and pain, and having experienced much pain and struggle in her own journey, one of her mantras has become 'see the good.' Well aware that focusing on the good does not make the bad go away, she's learned that seeing the good helps us bear the bad. There are so many things in life worth celebrating, worth fighting for and growing for, but we can't do it on our own. We need each other, in the good and the bad! One of Kim's deepest passions is to help people with the messiness of relationships, as she continues to learn in her own imperfect relationships. She's also pretty passionate about her family, weekend getaways, quiet time, reading and writing. And sleep!

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