I'm not sure where this post is gonna go, so hang on for the ride.
Let me begin by saying I know that there are many people out there who would be glad to only have the problem of being cooped up in their houses. A girl I went to grade school with had emergency surgery yesterday for a brain aneurysm. A former colleagues' boyfriend has terminal cancer. I have been thinking about these people constantly, every time I think to myself, "I don't know how much longer I can stand this." They are standing much worse. If my thoughts of them are prayers, then they are being overloaded at present with wishes for their peace, their health.
Let me follow by saying that I do like and love my children. I do like and love my husband. But inherent in my personhood is the need to be away from them. I suspect that if I had been in my house with Jesus for this many days I would be sick of him. It's not my kids or my husband or Jesus. It is me. This is who I am, for better or worse. In order for me to function at my best, I need more structure than what I am currently getting.
(I also don't think Jesus would ask for snacks constantly or complain about the food I give him, which tends to make me grouchy at my sons.)
Despite the frigid temperature and snow, I need an allergy shot. For the past two days I have been dealing with vertigo. Bedtime has been shortly after 9 pm both Friday and Saturday nights, which is fine because there is nothing else for me to do. I am waiting for my next book club book to be delivered, which may never happen because the newspaper and mail haven't come in days. My city has, more or less, shut the heck down.
My sons are driving me insane. They are loud. They are annoying. They are LOUD. During the best of times, when normalcy reigns, I have a hard time being with them for extended periods of time.
The aged cat in the basement keeps defecating everywhere, but he still eats and walks and isn't completely on death's doorstep, and I just can't euthanize him if he isn't there. But my sons just a half-hour ago stepped in a pile of cat poop and then ran up not one but 2 flights of steps with cat poop smeared on their slippers, thereby tracking it all through my house.
And based on the rain yesterday and the cold temperatures I'm afraid tomorrow doesn't look good for the resumption of school.
I tell myself that these aren't "real" problems. I have shelter, I have food, I (more or less) have my health, I have money in the bank. I have many blessings, many good things in my life.
But I have my brain, its anxieties, its tendency towards easily slipping into depression/despair, its struggle to rise above temporary uncertainty.
For me, this is a ring of hell. My brain doesn't turn off. It doesn't "rest." It doesn't "relax." It keeps churning with the same relentless fury it always does, and I cannot keep my life running alongside it at the moment because of factors beyond my control.
Everyone has their own particular struggles. This is mine. Being snow- and icebound makes it much harder to bear.