Permission

There's no better way to kill off your few lingering blog readers than to neglect your blog, quit reading and commenting on theirs, and when you do blog, you only write as if Debbie Downer herself were guest blogging.

I'm giving myself a hall pass for writing at this blog.  For the moment.

I'm afraid to write what I really feel right now, knowing that this general sense of overwhelm and depletion has got be only temporary, and the kind of words I want to write at this point are not the kind I want to send out into the universe right now. 

I started this blog when I stayed at home with my newborn and barely 2 year old.  I intended this blog to be about the fullness I feel from motherhood and raising daughters.  My words here will somehow be rearranged for them someday.  When I have the time.  My own mother promises me that day will come--the day when I have time for myself or some higher purpose greater than food, shelter and safety.  Eventually.  I want to believe her.

What I don't want is to keep writing about how I wake up each day with the goal of just getting through it.  There is no room for anything more than work and providing the basics for my children right now.  There is no room for anything else, and when there is room for anything else it is crammed in so tightly and layered so thickly with guilt that the joy of it is gone.

But all of that is going to change.  It must.

I'm going to find my way back to having a life that allows me to relish in my arms full of girls and delight in my heart full of gratitude.  No one can do that for myself except me, and no daughter of mine is going to have an example of such current depletion for a mother.  No sirree. 

And this is the last you will hear from me until I get a better, brighter, grip on life.  And I will.  Bet my daughters' God given curls, I'll be back.  As soon as possible. 

Although the world is full of suffering, it is also full of the overcoming of it. -Helen Keller