Q is for Quitting.
There was a time, not very long ago, when I told Mr. Sexy I was done. I wanted to quit.
What does that mean? he asked.
I have no blazing clue, was my response.
The daily struggles of life had become too much and I hit a wall. A brick wall. And it was very high. Everything that encompassed who I am, felt dried up. I felt empty. I had nothing left to offer. I just wanted to be done.
I was exhausted from feeling angry every day. I was tired of feeling unloved and undesired. I was burnt out from putting so much energy into trying to understand down syndrome. Daily I was beating myself up because as a step-parent and therefore, as a parent, I was blowing it. My heart ached and there was no outlet that would satisfy.
So I wanted to quit. I fantasized about running away. I thought about becoming a drunk, too. I could do it and I wouldn’t even remember Mr. Sexy leaving me and taking all the kids.
These ideas I just described to you were extremely short lived. They were fleeting moments of insanity that came and went. This is how Satan works, though. Small, swift pokes. The minute I give the poke some clout, it turns into something bigger. Like a nudge. And then, what were fleeting moments of insanity, starts to become my reality. I have seen this happen in my life before, and I wasn’t going to let it happen again.
That’s why I had to tell Mr. Sexy I wanted to quit.
As you can see, I have not quit. I’m not even sure how I came out of the dark place. Prayer, I’m sure, although not by me. I don’t talk to God well when I’m in the dark place. So I’m thankful to those who did pray for me because those people, whoever they are, helped keep my family together.
I don’t feel like quitting anymore. I don’t want to become a drunk and I definitely want to keep Mr. Sexy and ALL of my kids around. At least for a few more years. ::wink wink::
It’s my opinion that being honest about life is really important. I don’t like it when I put up a facade whether it’s on facebook, at church, my blog or hanging out with my friends. But it’s hard to be honest about the dark place. It is scary to hear about it from a friend. It’s even scarier to admit when you’re in the dark place.
The thing is that we need each other. None of us are immune to the dark place. There will be some who call me rude names because I admit my deepest struggles. Then there will be those, like my prayer warriors and Mr. Sexy, who do all they can to respond in love even though they can’t understand the struggle.
Wow. This was deep for the day before Easter!