I look out across the next seven months or so as if they are an ocean, an ocean that I somehow have to cross on my own, unsure of my final destination. Some days the seas will be rough and I'll be tossed about by the waves, barely able to maintain my grip on the rudder as the storm assaults me from all sides. Some days the seas will be calm and I'll sail along under crystal blue skies without a care. It would be easier if I knew where I would end up when this journey comes to a close and if I could predict the storms I'll face along the way to prepare accordingly. But all I can hope for at this point is to arrive in one piece.
Sometimes it's not enough to hope for the best and take things one day at a time. I am very weary of this journey and it has barely begun. At times I wonder how I will maintain the strength to get through a day, let alone several months. I pray for strength, patience, understanding, pray that my children will flourish despite my shortcomings and in spite of what the future holds.
My heart is full and yet I feel so empty. I have so much to be thankful for and find myself longing, lacking something. I do things for others because it is how I show love but I find it difficult to justify doing things for myself. And I receive so much love from those close to me . . . only to be consumed by loneliness.
Lately it seems each twist and turn deals me another unexpected blow. I keep hoping that things will just settle down, that life will deal me some bliss instead of strife. I have learned to search for the good in everything, to heed the lesson I'm being taught, but there are times when no matter how hard it may try the sun can't break through the clouds.
I have to consider that I'm not the person I believed I was nor am I the person I wished I'd be. I do know that I am strong, I am resilient, and I am capable. Sometimes strength is easily apparent and sometimes it is hidden. Sometimes strength is admitting you are weak -- lacking -- and initiating change. Sometimes strength is knowing when you've been beaten, admitting defeat, picking yourself up and moving on.
Right now my ship is full of holes and taking on water but I have a bucket and I'm bailing as quickly as I can. I have no idea how I will navigate the seas that stretch out beyond the horizon and if I will make it to the other shore only to run aground and crash to pieces. But I suppose the beauty of the unknown is just that -- we don't know if we'll arrive safely and if we did we might not set out in the first place.