I am so overwhelmed by life right now. I feel like I’m being pulled in every direction possible. I keep thinking, if I just hang on a little longer, things will calm down. I’ll have a chance to catch up and breathe. But it doesn’t calm down. If anything, it just keeps getting crazier. Add two sick kids to the mix and that’s my life at the moment.
As I sit in a darkened room, listening to my sick kids breathe, with a headlamp on so I can see, I know I need to finish strong. (You’re probably wondering why I’m sitting in the dark listening to my kids breath. I’ve learned the hard way to listen to my instincts and my instincts tonight have told me to stay close. Why? I don’t know. Maybe to help my youngest sleep better. She has a cough and is sleeping fitfully. Being close enough to put a hand on her back when she starts to fuss has helped her stay asleep. I’m hoping it will help her recover quicker. Regardless, it gives me the piece of mind I need to write.)
What does it mean to finish strong? Well, I’ll start off by telling you what it doesn’t mean. In junior high we had to run miles. Often. I want to say weekly, but maybe it wasn’t that often. My best mile was 6 minutes 12 seconds. It’s a bit crazy that I remember so many years later. I always wanted to have a five minute mile though. I think that’s why I remember. I came so close, but didn’t get it. I ran with others for three and a half laps. They all got five minute miles. Granted they were just under six minutes, but they still got to hear that number five. When they sped up the last half a lap, I couldn’t. I didn’t have any stored energy to pull from. If anything, I slowed.
Since then, no matter what I’m doing or how tired I am, I try to finish strong. Even if it seems hopeless, I tell myself to finish strong. I’m doing that now, in life and in writing. I’m hanging in there and taking life one day at a time and trying to accomplish something each day, even if it’s something small. With my writing, I’m sitting down and spending as much time as I can muster and I’m writing. I may not finish the writing challenge I’m participating in, but I’m not giving up. (This seems to be a theme with me. I’m not sure how I feel about it.) I’m writing and I’ll keep on writing. I know my life will calm down eventually. It may not be until my youngest leaves for college in seventeen years, but I know that when it does, I’ll miss it.