Our week did not start well. We have temporarily increased Helen’s therapy schedule hoping to make some progress desperately needed in a few areas. The plan was good, the follow-through hard.
First, it meant nearly a dozen alarms going off on my phone between breakfast and bedtime. Each signaling a different therapy that needed to happen, right now. Of course, the resulting (but necessary) stress for Helen had to show up somehow. This morning, she struggled to eat. Gagging and even throwing up. Twice.
Matthew was frustrated from hearing yes and no at all the wrong times and from a sister who won’t listen to me!
Then Alan came home. A discussion about the kids turned into an argument where I said things I instantly regretted. Because this all has to be someone’s fault and I really, really don’t want it to be mine.
The day finally, finally ended. I thought I can’t do this anymore. I am not enough.
And I was right about that. I’m not. But what I forgot is that I was never meant to be. This thing called life? We’re not meant to go it alone. And every time I do, it unravels around me.
So the next day came. And, when a friend emailed about a way to help, I answered honestly. Two friends offered to take Matthew out for awhile and I let him go. When Alan brought home take-out and we celebrated our Anniversary quietly at our dining room table, I listened and believed what he had to say.
Then some old friends invited us over.
We actually said yes.
I asked myself, What’s the worse that could happen? Then I chose not to answer. And you know what did happen? We gathered at their table to share cold lemonade and great conversation. Our kids played and we talked about things that are really significant and things that don’t really matter at all. It was all things an evening with old friends should be and I left their house more relaxed and happy than I’ve felt in a really long time.
Here’s the thing. Being not enough is more than ok. It’s good, because it brings us together. And together is how we are meant to be.