Wednesday, June 13, 2007

A Question of Identity

Being married to a pastor isn't easy. Being a mother isn't easy. Lots of things for lots of people aren't easy. Today is a day where I am wallowing, swimming, drowning in self-pity. "I am my family's own private genie," I think as I'm driving my daughter home from a birthday party. Breakfast? Volunteering at school? POOF! Paying bills? Smiling, waving at, counseling people at church? POOF! Sacrifice of husbabd's time for the good of the kingdom? POOF! I'm beginning to feel like the genie in Aladdin..."Poof, what do you need, POOF, WHAT DO you need? POOF, WHAT DO YOU NEEEEEEEEEED?"

I begin to feel very self-righteous about just how much I do for my family and how little they do for me. Then, of course, guilt sets in. I think, "I am so fortunate. I get to be home with my kids. Think of all the mothers in third world countries that can't even feed their children. What on earth are you complaining about?" Waves of shame ensue and I end up feeling even more miserable. Lithium, anyone?

Every mom/ wife feels like this on certain days. Unless, of course, you are in total denial and simply can't come to terms with the hard days. Saying that they are hard actually helps take the pressure off, believe me. But, I really don't want to wallow in self-pity - I can't just camp out there. While it feels justifed and very fair at the time, it's a miserable place to be. I end up giving free rent to the negative voices in my head, and it's not long before they control how I perceive all the daily input of life. Suddenly, my husband's goodbye kiss irritates me because he didn't even think about making lunches. Then, I think all day about how he doesn't know me at all...because he didn't offer to make lunches. Really, that's crazy. If I want him to make lunches, I just need to say, "Honey, make lunches today." I can get so riled up over such small things. That book published 10 or so years ago, "Don't Sweat the Small Stuff," just totally pisses me off. I sweat the small stuff ALL the freaking time. Only, at the time, it doesn't FEEL small to me.

The only thing I know how to do is pray this, "Help."
And, I wait. Eventually, I feel a release.
I feel like I'm not alone, that while our congregation, sometimes my husband and kids and pets, don't know who I am, the all powerful God of the universe does.

And, that's enough.


  1. I really think you need to submit your articles to a magazine for women. They are really good!

  2. I echo what Neely says. I didn't know you could write like this!


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