Apparently I needed a Therapist…or a Beach Day ☀️🌊
It’s been a crazy few weeks, and I’ve really struggled to find time to write.
A few weeks ago, I was on fire – writing faster then I could type, edit or post. The words were pouring out of me. If you looked at my Notes app, you’d see at least four blog beginnings still sitting there, waiting to be finished.
But then life happened…
Work got busy.
Kids got sick.
Fundraising season kicked in at both kids’ schools.
And I struggled just to keep up with the day-to-day.
The dishes piled up.
The laundry sat unfolded and the hampers overflowed.
My house became a mess.
And so I put the dam back up – just to make the words stop.
I didn’t have time to think.
To process.
To feel.
But the thing with emotions is…
You can only hold them back for so long before they start spilling out.
And I think that’s what’s been happening.
The dam was back up, but holes were starting to form. It could no longer hold back the rush of water that pressing up against it.
So I went into panic mode.
Trying to plug the holes with my hands.
Trying to keep it all together.
But I only have two hands.
No matter how hard I try, I can’t plug every leak and keep up with everything else in life.
The pressure just kept building and building – until the dam couldn’t hold it anymore.
And the waters came rushing out.
“...the dam couldn’t hold it anymore. And the waters came rushing out.”
At that point, I felt like I was drowning.
I couldn’t keep up with all thoughts and emotions flooding my mind.
And my instinct was to reach for anything that might save me.
Yesterday, it all came spilling out.
The emotions I had been holding in for too long, trying to contain, trying to silence – they didn’t just flow out…they came rushing out.
I was sitting in my living room, talking to my kids
Still in a bathrobe (which, ironically, I never wear)…
At 3PM.
It was quite the site, I must admit. 😅
I started asking them all sorts of deep questions –
To which my 7 year old said, “Umm…this is to deep. I don’t understand what’s going on.”,
And my 10 year old added, “You ok, bro? Do you need a hug?” 😂
It was funny…and not funny….all at the same time.
I laughed and apologized.
I told them “Mom’s fine. She’s just a little weird sometimes.”
And being the amazing little humans they are, they replied:
“It’s okay. I’m weird too.”
And, “That’s something to talk about with Dad – or a therapist!”
(TRUE STORY KID! I agree! LOL)
That’s when I realized I was drowning.
I was trying so hard to tread water, but didn’t feel like there was any hope of rescue.
And this morning, when I woke, I felt disappointed to realize…
I was still in the water.
Still tired.
Still treading water.
I didn’t have the energy to keep treading anymore.
And then I realized -
You don’t have to keep treading water, Nadine.
You can swim!
Swim to back to solid ground.
But what does that look like?
She doesn’t see me the way I see me. And maybe that’s a gift I’m still learning to receive.
“Not the pressure to catch up or clean everything or be everything. Just the small things that bring me back to life.”
For me, it means moving towards the things I know bring me joy and peace.
Not the things that leave me feeling behind, ashamed or overwhelmed.
Not the pressure to catch up or clean everything or be everything.
Just the small things that bring me back to life.
So today, swimming towards solid ground looks like:
Drinking my coffee on my back deck and enjoying the beautiful warm Spring weather.
Taking my kids to the beach to enjoy some fresh air.
Catching up on our weekly devotional (which we’ve missed the last two weeks 😫)
Watching them play in God’s beautiful creation.
And the irony doesn’t escape me…
I will be standing on solid ground.
Staring at the big ocean.
And this time, I won’t be drowning.
Enjoying the beautiful weather at the beach.. No bathrobe needed! lol
If you’ve been treading water too long…
Maybe today is the day you stop treading water.
Maybe today is the day you start swimming.
To joy.
To peace.
To solid ground.
“I will be standing on solid ground. Staring at the big ocean. And this time, I won’t be drowning.”
Sometimes peace looks like this.