The Storm

You know that feeling that so many people talk about? The one where you have just survived the worst thunderstorm you have ever been in and look up expecting to see sunshine, but instead you can see black-green clouds looming and you know you must embrace for the hardest hit?

That's where I'm at right now. After a grueling "spring break" tutoring in KCMO, I've been struggling with what one may assume to be an easy three day adjustment back into finishing the last leg of my student teaching. Ironically in the last three days of literal rain I have also had the chance to look up and see the metaphoric clouds quickly approaching.

Just as efficiently as I closed my lap top my eyes re-focused on what I was surrounded in. A house that had been un kept because of my busy schedule. I apparently forgot to write in asking someone to help me clean. ---Wait. No I didn't. I scheduled time for myself to clean, but put Little Matt's new twin size bed together instead. That consumed three hours that had been strategically placed for cleaning.

Now as I ventured into the kitchen to clean the 5 minute-do-dinner-in-microwave mess that was covering the counter, I turned around to a sink over flowing with dishes. My feet were successfully tracking bread crumbs from linoleum to carpet, and speaking of carpet, those Spring buds that I love so much were all over my living room floor. Which was a little difficult to see under the kids' coloring books, broken crayons, markers, bills, hair bows, and toys that had managed to escape the non-effective "toy basket" for the living room. I sighed and went to turn off the lights only to allow myself a chance to see what I was truly trying to hide. My failure. I sat on the arm of the couch contemplating accepting defeat or battling the mess. I chose the third option. Ask for help.

Remembering that I was married and that my husband had just been sleeping on the floor I went to our room to finally put my pride to the side and ask for him to help me clean the mess in the living room. After a little debate and me finally admitting in an exasberated voice, "I am about to cry. I need you help," he arose from the bed still partially in REM stage 3 of sleep. He managed to pick up a couple toys and his pie plate before I heard the bedroom door close again.

I walked down the hallway to be greeted with what I already knew. The door was closed. The light was off. My help was gone--to bed. I begged. I gave in. I turned to battle the storm myself. But just as those who rise from the protection of their basement to see that their home and everything they knew to be normal was ripped away and replaced with shreds and debris---I saw my house after the storm. Failure was at my feet in the petal filled hallway. It was on my couch in the still to be put together book shelf. It was filling my sink in the dirty dishes and crumb filled floor. I was no longer in the eye of the storm. I some how slept through the actual tornado and now I was standing in the aftermath.

I stood in the hallway taking in all that was around me and finally did what I had been needing to do since I found out my sister was diagnosed with blood cancer. I cried.

Even as I write this I struggle to hold back the weakness that is banging to escape my eyes. I allowed myself to cry, but not for my defeat today. For my defeat this year. This was supposed to be my year and I have let my circumstances dictate my reaction and strength. So tonight I am allowing myself to have a moment of weakness. Tonight as you all sleep, as my husband snores in the bed and my children rest in their newly built beds under my broken back....I will cry.

Tomorrow: I will attempt to gather what is left of me after the storm.