Life. It’s so dang hard. Why?

Why has life given us hardships? Why do I have to watch my kids suffer? Hurt me but not my kids. Within a year, we’ve dealt with two traumatizing near death experiences, 2 broken bones (separate occasion, same kid 😅), second skin cancer, and navigating a heartbreaking disorder. How does one keep going when they’ve already experienced Hell on Earth? People say my luck is broken, because it seems like I have none anymore 🤷‍♀️.

I doubt myself daily as a mother. Have I not done enough? How can I give attention to each of my kids? Am I doing enough to support them? My kids might say I am not doing enough. Do I tell them enough of how amazing they are? Or do they just see the exhausted, dragged through the mud mother?

After a rough start of February, I have never had this many panic attacks in my life. Anyone who says they are made up for attention or just think people should relax…. Well they can go kick rocks. It is an out of body experience no one should go through. Triggers are real. I am learning what triggers them, but who can really blame me with what’s been going on. Everything is a trigger these days.

So much stigma in mental health and disorders. Why? Why do we strive for perfection, free of disorders or anything out of the ordinary? Why do we look and wait for people to make a mistake, or do things differently, and then talk about it with others? Who are we to judge others’ imperfections?

Grief is lonely. It makes us question every little decision. It’s like the adversary is right in my ear saying things like: I am not good enough, people are whispering about us, judging us. When all I want to do is protect my family from emotional and physical harm. And safeguard myself too.

You know what adversary?!

I AM ENOUGH.

MY KIDS ARE AMAZING, EACH AND EVERY ONE OF THEM.

MY KIDS DESERVE LOVE NO MATTER WHAT THEY ARE GOUNG THROUGH.

And I deserve to give myself some grace.

I’ve had a life of trauma starting in my teens. My parents did their best with what they were capable of giving, mentally and spiritually. I try and do better than what I was given, and I hope my kids see that I am trying so hard. And I hope they try a little better with their kids. It’s all a fine balance, isn’t it? We all come from generational traumas. As long as we all try to do better each day, even at a snails pace, that’s all we can ask of ourselves and that’s ok. Don’t rush to the finish line in this lie of perfection because it will never come. Instead, take life day by day. Make the next day a little better. Be grateful for the little things.

When I finally returned home from being with my mom and sister after my dad took his life, I fell into a sloppy mess of a human on the kitchen floor. The kids were content and couldn’t hear or see me. I was hidden behind the kitchen island. My knees pulled tight, tears on my legs. I fell into that same spot today. Pleading with God, just as I did that day over 8 years ago. Today my dad talked to me. Through music and his presence that I felt. Song after song came on of his unique playlist, when all I asked Alexa was to play music. I laughed when a special song came on, shaking my head like he was telling me an inside joke. Then crying more tears, praying with everything I had.

No sympathy needed here from this story. But what I want is not to hide what life can be like when it’s bad. We love to share all the good, but as humans we don’t willingly share the bad. Because of judgement? Fear of not being perfect?

People consistently ask how I do it all and handle what life brings. My comical but truthful answer? I drop to my kitchen floor, put music on, and pray with so much passion that it hurts. Snot running down my face, hyperventilating. Laughing at my dad and his jokes, and feeling his warm presence.

That’s how I get through it. With the love of my Savior, the feeling of the Holy Ghost, and my guardian angel, my Dad, by my side. ❤️

Hugs,

Sarah