Sometimes even the good things in life can cause me to start feeling bipolar disorder symptoms.
You have searched me, Lord,
and you know me.
You know when I sit and when I rise;
you perceive my thoughts from afar.
Psalm 139: 1-2
Life’s a little hectic around here these days. There’s the big wedding in two weeks. Then, there’s the bridal tea the week before that wedding I’m excited to host with my sister-in-crime, Karolina. I’m taking a writing class and writing my butt off, sending out queries and book proposals. The weeds are growing high in the front gardens with no mama to root them out. There’s teacher appreciation week just wrapped up, a different themed treat each day for the staff at the boys’ school, every door decorated, every teacher smiling. There’s birthdays heading up around the bend and a kindergarten graduation. And the hole in my hallway? My gutted bathroom? Oh, yes, it’s all still there. That project starts this week . . .
I don’t know why life seems to hit all at the same time, why the weeds grow when they know I have to write. Why this time of year, as my first peony unfurls her vanilla center scantily clad with her hot pink petals, explodes with party invites and holidays.
I know I’ve hit my limit when I’m riding the Nordstrom escalator the other night and can’t hold back tears. Why are you crying? my accuser chides me. I don’t know I blubber back. And even though I don’t feel like it, I start praying right there on that escalator. Sometimes I need Him to search me, for Him to give me the answers. I need a clean line of sight when I can’t find true north, even when the only things crowding the way are good things.
As I move from store to store and dig through my purse to find the receipt for the boys’ ties, a kind whisper stops me, mid-stride: “It’s Dad, Tay.”
A rush of relief moves through me, and I stand with people streaming all around, in the middle of the mall, breathing in this understanding. Of course it is, Lord.
The accuser has no voice here, and there is no more confusion. In the midst of all of this wonderful, there is sadness in every step. And now that I see the twisted bliss, I know what I need to do. I need to be very careful.
This aching heart needs some shelter, a lot of sleep, and some time in her garden. This mama’s heart needs deep breaths and time snuggling her boys. Life needs to be slow right now: less phone time, less Facebook, more peace.
We weren’t meant to blunderbuss through every emotion and every trigger. Sometimes we need to just be a little careful with our hearts. If it means putting off a remodel, or staying home from a few parties, that’s what I do.
This mind of mine is special. It absorbs layers of light others simply miss, and it feels the earth quake when others feel footsteps.
“Are you just being too sensitive?” is the question that pops up during these times of careful being. Yes, I am. And that’s what makes me me.
So, friend, be careful with yourself today. Be mindful of your moments of confusion. Ask for clarity, and it will be given to you. And, once you see, you can carefully tip toe past the quakes and the sunbursts. You’re worth the extra steps.