So, about my feelings these past few weeks. They are sort of morbid. It has been awhile, but it started the winter before I became pregnant with Evan. I will lay in bed at night and it hits me, "I'm going to die." It scares me. I don't know if it is a lack of faith, but I do know I do not want to be without my boys, all 4 of them. I cannot stand the thought of it. It takes my breath away, leaving me with tears that sting, but don't flow. They are tears of fear. What I do know is I need to work on it. I talk to God and tell Him "I need you." I need Him. I have a lot of work to do in my faith. I feel like a failure. I wish I had someone who could mentor me. So, I need to seek that, right?
Well, then I start to analyze more and more and I realized today that I am also very afraid of who I am and how capable I am of being a crappy person. (long story, but I watched Up Syndrome and I am afraid of having an adult with Ds. I was that night anyways. As I think more about it, I'm not afraid so much of Calvin, but of myself. I have a lot of growth ahead of me. More another time). Okay, this is again not a pity party, but a moment of reflective truth. We are all capable of being crappy people, but I am speaking directly of myself.
I am reading The Year My Son and I Were Born by Kathryn Lynard Soper. I feel quite possibly what she felt, though I don't really know. I just know I could feel that, it could have been me. I think I would have peered a bit too close to depression if I would not have had a prenatal diagnosis. Of course I do not know, but I have thought about this many times. I am grateful it worked out the way it did. For some reason, I was spared. It's hard to explain. If you have not read it I would recommend you do. Disabled child or not.
It is just that, well, I am a junky person and I have values in many wrong places.
I know what you're thinking "Oh, Ilisa, you are not!" No really, I am. Of course not in every way, but in too many. I have not given myself completely to God, not even close. I don't know how! I am trying, then I wonder, am I trying too hard? And, I realize if it weren't for Calvin, I would be even less close to giving myself to Him.
When I get tired or hurt, I criticize, I nit-pick, I blame, I judge, and so on. This is absolutely not okay and I am working to change my ways and instead take time to figure out what is going on in ME. It is amazing that I treat others as I think I should be treated, yet don't want to be. You know what I mean?
I will say, as many married women would, I have had negative moments in my marriage. I was going to make a point here, but as I wrote that, it completely escaped me. Why? I guess it is not meant to be that I continue. It is just that I realized something about myself in one of our recent moments (AKA fight). Yes, we fight. No, I didn't want you to know that, but come on!
Oh, I know. I was thinking to myself: I am exhausted trying to forgive. How many times do I have to forgive? This is getting to be too many. I think I should be done. I have a right to be done. How many times? One more? Then it hit me: God does not decide that I've asked one too many times. He forgives us over, and over, and over. Who am I to give up on one person? I won't give up. I will always love him. I will always forgive him; because of that love. And, I hope he forgives me.
Life is exhausting yet exhilarating, isn't it? I could go on, but this post would too soon be a book. Maybe another time. The journey is not close to being over. My brain never shuts up! I don't even know if this post will make sense. Sorry if it doesn't.