The "last three months" he was referring to were the wedding, cross-country move, and having a baby. I wasn't able to answer his question because I hadn't taken any time to sit down and decompress over the last three months. With so much happening at once, I had learned to look ahead rather than enjoy the moment. (You can verify this with my bridesmaids as my wedding was just a stressed, upset version of me all weekend.) I have started journal entries to turn into blogs about the last three months but only ever accomplished a sentence or two. I've never had the words and still don't.
I think the reason that the question of the last three months sticks in my head is because I don't think that I have answered the question "well, you survived, right?" I don't feel as though I have survived through those months. If you sat me down in June and asked me to describe myself it would include the words: single, runner, blogger, nanny, Buffalonian, health nut. If you asked me if any of those things held true now, the answer would be no.
I find myself completely changed by the last five months of my life. I can name the basics changes but I haven't figured out what is at the core of me. I am a mother, a wife, and a Washingtonian. I feed, change, rock to sleep and try, try, try to comfort a colicky baby. Although I wanted to stay home with Porter, I feel like I have accomplished nothing at the end of the day. I will admit to you that I spent almost 3 hours creating our Christmas cards today on Shutterfly because I knew that it is one of the only tasks that I can put a checkmark near and own as a completed project. Most days I have no doubt that I will find myself working outside the home within the year because I want to be helpful to others outside my home.
I can't rightfully say that I am a runner or even that health-minded anymore (unless you can include reading Runner's World). I look in the mirror and see stretch marks left from my sweet boy that and I can't help but be disgusted at myself. I hate the reminders on TimeHop of the healthy relationship I spent two years building with my body. I feel like I broke up with a great love of my life but with no remorse whatsoever. I can state the simple fact that I don't think I will ever run a race again. I don't know if it's the exhaustion or awkward pains from nursing, but it doesn't hurt me to say. What does hurt is the happiness that I once had at the end of a workout, or writing a blog about body image. For me, running and working out gave me obtainable goals (sure, it was wonderful getting killer abs and legs in the process). Right now, my goals are measured in getting the baby in to bed in less than an hour, taking a shower and finishing the laundry in one day.
I'll never say that I regret having a baby or that I regret moving. In the scheme of life choices, if I were to start again, I would not have chosen to do them at the same time. It hasn't left my identity much to hold on to. I used to have these dreams and desires, some were the reason that we moved out West, but I just don't find them calling to me any longer. Maybe God is preparing my heart for new dreams. I think it's okay to admit that for right now I am a little lost.
I keep wanting for a way to answer the question of "How are you feeling after all the changes in your life?" The truth is that life isn't like a book. There are no ends to chapters and neat little bows on the ends of stories. Life is a marathon with an undetermined end. Life will continue to throw changes my way. Life will continue to make me question who I am and what I stand for. My job is to live a life that is meaningful and glorifying of the one who made me. Right now, I don't know exactly what that looks like, but that doesn't mean I stop trying to figure it out.
I find myself completely changed by the last five months of my life. I can name the basics changes but I haven't figured out what is at the core of me. I am a mother, a wife, and a Washingtonian. I feed, change, rock to sleep and try, try, try to comfort a colicky baby. Although I wanted to stay home with Porter, I feel like I have accomplished nothing at the end of the day. I will admit to you that I spent almost 3 hours creating our Christmas cards today on Shutterfly because I knew that it is one of the only tasks that I can put a checkmark near and own as a completed project. Most days I have no doubt that I will find myself working outside the home within the year because I want to be helpful to others outside my home.
I can't rightfully say that I am a runner or even that health-minded anymore (unless you can include reading Runner's World). I look in the mirror and see stretch marks left from my sweet boy that and I can't help but be disgusted at myself. I hate the reminders on TimeHop of the healthy relationship I spent two years building with my body. I feel like I broke up with a great love of my life but with no remorse whatsoever. I can state the simple fact that I don't think I will ever run a race again. I don't know if it's the exhaustion or awkward pains from nursing, but it doesn't hurt me to say. What does hurt is the happiness that I once had at the end of a workout, or writing a blog about body image. For me, running and working out gave me obtainable goals (sure, it was wonderful getting killer abs and legs in the process). Right now, my goals are measured in getting the baby in to bed in less than an hour, taking a shower and finishing the laundry in one day.
I'll never say that I regret having a baby or that I regret moving. In the scheme of life choices, if I were to start again, I would not have chosen to do them at the same time. It hasn't left my identity much to hold on to. I used to have these dreams and desires, some were the reason that we moved out West, but I just don't find them calling to me any longer. Maybe God is preparing my heart for new dreams. I think it's okay to admit that for right now I am a little lost.
I keep wanting for a way to answer the question of "How are you feeling after all the changes in your life?" The truth is that life isn't like a book. There are no ends to chapters and neat little bows on the ends of stories. Life is a marathon with an undetermined end. Life will continue to throw changes my way. Life will continue to make me question who I am and what I stand for. My job is to live a life that is meaningful and glorifying of the one who made me. Right now, I don't know exactly what that looks like, but that doesn't mean I stop trying to figure it out.
