I am sitting here wiping tears from my eyes. I’ve just spilled a glass of water all over my cluttered desk. I’m crying for the mess that I had to clean up, I’m crying for the clutter, and I’m crying about the weariness that has made it so very difficult to clean up that clutter lately. Or any of the clutter that seems to have taken over my house. And I’m crying because of that ugly voice in my head that wants me to believe I’m not worthy because I have a messy house that I’d be too ashamed to invite anyone into right now.
I am fatigued. So very, very tired.
I’m crying silent tears, because my daughters are in the next room and I don’t want them to come running. It’s not that I never cry in front of them, but sometimes it’s just easier not to have to explain mommy tears.
The truth is, I’m also crying because I’m hearing the voices of my daughters complaining that there is so little food in this house for them to eat and they don’t know WHY I haven’t gone grocery shopping lately and WHY I make them suffer and… oh, there is a long list of complaints.
And then there’s the fact that I’m teaching tomorrow and I can’t seem to focus on my teaching notes, and I’ve already resigned myself to the fact that I won’t get papers marked in time to hand them back tomorrow. I’m always one of those consistent teachers who hands things back right away and now I have to let myself down as well as my students.
Those are all the little things that mask the big things. My mom’s cancer. Our financial challenges. And… did I mention my mom’s cancer?
All I can do is cry. I should be shopping for groceries, or marking papers, or cleaning my desk. But I just want to cry. Or nap.
A nap would be really, really good right now. I think I could stay in bed for the next 24 hours and I’d still wake up exhausted.
I’m trying so hard to be strong. And brave. And not worn down by life. It’s what I do – I carry on. I buck up. I put on my big girl panties and fight the battles that need to be fought. I survive.
I’m trying, but this afternoon I feel too weary to fight.
I wasn’t going to write about this. I’ve been censoring myself lately – deleting Facebook statuses that sound too whiny or negative or just plain weary. I don’t want to be that person – the victim, the self-pitier, the energy-sucking needy friend who always talks about how hard life is.
I don’t even know if I’ll hit “publish” on this post yet. But I feel like I need to write it.
Because this is the authentic, warts-and-all, tears-in-her-eyes, unpolished me.
I fall apart sometimes.
I want you to know that, because too many people have been saying “you are one of the strongest people I know” lately. “If you can’t handle this, nobody can.”
Really? Am I really the strong woman you’re picturing me to be, or have I just managed to paint a picture of strength to hide the flaws, just like I scramble to hide any messes behind closed doors when you come to visit my house?
I’m not always strong. And I have a messy house. You could eat off my kitchen floor, simply because there are so many crumbs and bits of food you could make a meal out of it. I don’t have the energy to clean it up, or even to remind my daughters that they were supposed to do it last night.
I have been diagnosed with adrenal fatigue, and the diagnosis is teaching me some big lessons.
My body is designed to cope in the middle of stress. The adrenal glands pump out extra adrenaline and cortisol, preparing a person for fight or flight. But after too much stress, the adrenal glands get worn out. They have nothing left to give. They have to recuperate so that they’re prepared for the next stressor.
There have been very few months in the last 3 years that haven’t included stress. First my job wore me out. Then my husband’s mental health took a nose-dive and he attempted suicide. As his advocate in a flawed mental health system, my adrenal glands had to kick into overdrive. Then there was the rocky road of self-employment with more bills to pay than there was money coming in. And my mom was diagnosed with cancer. And my marriage nearly crumbled. Add to that the daily challenges of parenting teenagers.
My body has nothing left to give.
I have been pushing it to the brink. I have been treating it like my slave. I have been acting like a cruel parent who berates her children for being tired after cleaning house all day.
I have been unkind to myself.
I have lied to myself about what I am capable of.
I have been unfair to my community, not letting them help when they want nothing more.
I’m not even giving God the chance to lend me strength.
I am doing my best to change that. I am doing my best to live authentically. I am doing my best to let myself be weak and not pretend otherwise.
Because I believe in the power of community. And I believe in my body’s wisdom about when it needs to be cared for. And I believe in the beauty of vulnerability.
I believe that admitting weakness is the first step in allowing God’s strength to work in me. Real strength, not the kind I like to pretend I have.
I am weak.
And now I am going to hit publish before I regret this.
Hi Heather.
I am weak too. You saw it, everybody saw it, and I judged myself. Heather doesn’t break down like this, I thought to myself. We are human, and it takes great courage to let people see the full spectrum of the human experience. Sending big love to you today, and am here if you need anything.
It is good to come together and just be real. You write one heck-of a reminder. xoxo ((keeping you all in my thoughts and prayers))
What a beautiful, honest post. Thank you so much for sharing it. I hear it, feel it, and acknowledge it. It is so important to say. May you rest, and know that all will be OK in the long run. Love is all around, even when right now sucks big time. Hugs from AZ.
Admitting to our humanity is not weakness, it’s human. And we can be strong in that too. I know you know this…just reminding you that you are beautiful and human. Thank you for being honest – I know you’ve touched many hearts (including mine) with this.
Beautiful, raw, human. Thank you for your courage and honesty.
Well sister I don’t even know, really, thank you. I have been consumed with so many of the things that you’re talking about. I don’t know why, exactly, but your strength to share has made me feel not-so-alone. You are courageous. Thank you.
How wonderful that you are able to articulate your thoughts and feelings with such courage and honesty, Heather. The weak are the ones who “just soldier on”, too fearful to face themselves. You are writing from a place of genuine connection to your situation and environment, the depth of your exhaustion, and your true heart. As always, you are inspiring in all your wonderful manifestations. I’m sure your face is as beautiful shedding tears as it is with your captivating smile! Enormous, warm hugs.
Thank you for sharing, Heather. Your feelings are all so very normal and it is very brave of you to be vulnerable. I pray for you every day.
Tears of empathy and identification and a hug from afar. This community will help you hold your pain. You are not alone.
Sending you love and light, Heather. I do believe any strong person has moments like this, and it doesn’t make a strong person less strong. I feel you.
Holding you in my thoughts and prayers with love and thanks. I am so thankful you did hit publish. This is a real, authentic post, which helps all of us to be strong enough to admit to our weakness. I think it is so important for our leaders to be this transparent so that everyone else knows that we all go through the full spectrum of human experience and emotion.
Of course you know that and don’t need telling. What I really want to say is simply I hear you.
Thank you. I hear you.
Thank you. Every time I read your comments, I cry a little more – in deep gratitude for your compassion and understanding. It is good to be heard. Blessings to all of you.
Heather – my prayers are with you and yes let God in to help you – he is always there. Lean on him – lean on him hard and then fall into the space he creates….and let others in to help. It is an amazing thing to do that – when I was injured last year and my friends called and asked I first turned them away and then I kicked myself and started letting them bring me lunch and sit with me or go to the store for me or do whatever and the love and affection was such great medicine for me. I rarely have let other help me and I know now the gifts that can bring! We are not super women and we need each other as well as faith and prayer. Hugs to you!
I have a small tattoo at the nape of my neck – Two symbols; 1 a small delicate pair of wings – to remind me that my guardian angel has always got my back, and that just because you can’t see ‘it’ [faith (in oneself, in a greater power – any kind of faith)] doesn’t mean it’s not there! and 2 a small symbol from the zibu reference, meaning ‘new beginning’s – one of my favourite quotations is “No-one can go back and start a new beginning. But anyone can start today and begin a new ending”, helping me on those days I have oh-so-like-the-one-described-here, to regroup, take a breath and draw a line under where I’m at so I can get to where I want to be with less hair-shirt baggage. Big hugs – we all have times like this. And we survive them! And we even get to smile about them/ourselves (eventually!!)
It takes a lot of courage to share something like this – but your sharing gives so much to others, to people like me, who stumble by – reminding us of our shared humanity, and that there ain’t no way any of us can do it all on our own. Sending positive vibes to you and yours across the airwaves
Hi Heather,
OMG all that and teenagers too? I feel your pain. Send me your snail mail address. I’d love to send you a care package. It’s the least I can do. xo
The honesty of your words has touched me deeply. I have had stress bring me to places I didn’t want to be. You may feel weak right now, but it seems that you have inspired much strength in others that are willing to share it back with you. I hope your load gets lighter.
Dear, dear Heather,
What a beautiful, wrenching, raw and honest post. I’m sorry to hear that you’re suffering with adrenal fatigue. I know EXACTLY what you’re talking about because I’ve been dealing with the same thing myself this year. And I also know what it means to be the woman who everyone thinks is so strong.
So big kudos to you for telling the truth. And for asking to be seen for all of who you are. And for being an inspiration to others even WHILE you are struggling.
I CAN say that with time and self care and the right supplements and diet, etc. you can start to feel better. But you are taking the enormous first step of simply acknowledging where you are.
Sending much love and healing energy, my sweet creative sister.
You rock, Heather … Full Spectrum Hugs!!
Wow! Seems like time to focus on Grace. That was beautiful.
Dear dear Heather,
You should not regret hitting publish. Thank you for sharing your humanity. Vulnerability IS beautiful. And I know some of what you are feeling. Financial difficulty is a terrible pain. Please let me be your community and let me help you in a some small way – what is your physical address, please? Sending love and light… and more 🙂
Just sending you so much love, Heather. <3
be gentle on yourself – Read Matt 5 the Beatitudes in Peterson’s Message translation. You are blessed when you are at the end of your rope then there is less of you and more of me!