Some days I have a LOT of energy, and can accomplish things, and feel successful at things, and paint, and blog...
Other days, it feels as if the whole world is shackled to my ankles, and I have to drag it all with me as I go about my activities.
I find that the heavy days are the days that another bit of rottenness oozes to the surface and insists on having my attention. Since I am working toward healing and wholeness, paying attention to the shrapnel is important and is part of the process.
Today's piece of embedded infection is one that comes and goes with regularity, and causes even more exhaustion than normal.
This piece is one labeled "it's all my fault."
Every time something goes wrong, it's all my fault.
Every time there's not enough money, it's my fault.
Every time a kid fails, it's my fault.
Every time a family member does or says something hurtful, it's my fault.
Every time others' expectations are unfulfilled, it's my fault.
Every time the car breaks down,
the washer quits,
the sink backs up,
an appointment is forgotten,
a book is left somewhere,
a child catches a cold,
the dog gets sick,
the house is a mess...
It's all my fault.
Even when things are going well, it could probably have been better, and it's my fault that it is NOT.
I'm not good enough.
I'm not pretty enough.
I'm not thin enough.
I'm not smart enough.
I'm not savvy enough.
I'm not spiritual enough.
I'm not organized enough.
I'm not creative enough.
I can step back and logically look at things, and realize that others have choices, and life on planet earth means that things fall apart, and money is finite, and time is finite, and it is completely impossible for all of it to be my responsibility or my fault.
The tape that plays in my head says that if I WERE enough, everything would go right. The kids would make perfect decisions, the house would stay clean and company-ready, the fat would melt away, the food would always be delicious, the laundry would be clean and folded and put away, the dog would always be a perfect gentleman, my husband would always be attentive (and awake!), the cars would last forever without needing costly repairs....and God would bless each and everything I did and it would all turn out perfectly.
Some days, I feel like I was sold a bill of goods. I KNOW that's not how God works. He blesses me whether I'm good, or not. He blesses the mistakes, and the burnt brownies, and the yippy dog that MUST pee on my bedroom carpet, and the children who are learning how to live and to love (sometimes the hard way!), and the cars that need encouragement and oil changes to keep putzing along. He also blesses ME...the broken mess that I am....the one with the falling-apart body, and the forever-disabled insides of me, and He says that He loves me.
I have a hard time with that love. Because there's this tape in my head that says I'm not enough. And THAT is exhausting.