Deep thoughts by Jac----er, me.
Some days I feel like....
...a servant. The floor is never swept unless I sweep it. The clothes are not folded unless I fold them. The windows are not washed, the shelves are not dusted, the floor is not vacuumed unless I do it.
...a carpet. Come spill your juice, your complaints, your frustrations upon me. Stomp and grind and flop down right on top of me and I will take it with bland silence and perhaps a stray tack or two sticking out.
...a megaphone. My voice will rise and rise until it soars above the noise, until those that hear it want to run with their ears covered, until every word - happy, sad, mad or otherwise - is a yell meant to silence those around me and proclaim my rightness.
...a failure. Like I am never enough, like my habits are too ingrained, my ticks are too quirky. I know the right things to do and yet cannot do them. Perhaps will not do them is more accurate.
...I am blessed. In spite of it all - maybe because of it all, I am amazingly blessed. The children I yell at still kiss me and tell me they love me. The husband who will step on laundry all day long will also do dishes and change diapers without me having to ask. The complaints and frustrations show me that I have room to grow and thanks to give.
Sometimes I feel like it can't get any worse.
Mostly I feel like it can't get any better.
...a servant. The floor is never swept unless I sweep it. The clothes are not folded unless I fold them. The windows are not washed, the shelves are not dusted, the floor is not vacuumed unless I do it.
...a carpet. Come spill your juice, your complaints, your frustrations upon me. Stomp and grind and flop down right on top of me and I will take it with bland silence and perhaps a stray tack or two sticking out.
...a megaphone. My voice will rise and rise until it soars above the noise, until those that hear it want to run with their ears covered, until every word - happy, sad, mad or otherwise - is a yell meant to silence those around me and proclaim my rightness.
...a failure. Like I am never enough, like my habits are too ingrained, my ticks are too quirky. I know the right things to do and yet cannot do them. Perhaps will not do them is more accurate.
...I am blessed. In spite of it all - maybe because of it all, I am amazingly blessed. The children I yell at still kiss me and tell me they love me. The husband who will step on laundry all day long will also do dishes and change diapers without me having to ask. The complaints and frustrations show me that I have room to grow and thanks to give.
Sometimes I feel like it can't get any worse.
Mostly I feel like it can't get any better.
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