Day Eight, In Which Everything Falls Apart

The next few posts will be retroactive. You'll understand in a moment. 

Nothing is without a relation to something else and that includes this exploration of mine.

On Wednesday, I woke up feeling lighter than I had the day before. I was prepared to make it a good day. I got ready for work, put on my beret and my shoes, grabbed my tea and lunch, and headed out the door. Touched the mezuzah and prayed allowed as I reached my car. This would seem unconventional to anyone else, but it felt more like a conversation with Hashem than a solemn act, and I can appreciate that.

An hour's drive and an hour more into my workday, the high school where my two youngest children go called me. The resource officer, specifically. My youngest child has had a very large struggle with her mental health for the last 18 months or so, which means... the call was not actually unexpected. I won't go into details here, but I'm beginning to reach a space where her breakdowns make me feel like I also want to break down.

I stifled back the tears, put an awkward and honestly inappropriate smile on my face, informed my boss and HR, and left with only one hour on my timecard for the day. - I drove an hour and a half back the other way to sort things out.

But something changed from all the other times in the last year and a half that I have had to leave whatever I was doing to go and see to my child. Usually, I just feel sad or angry or tired... and I did feel all these things. Then, I caught sight of my reflection in the review mirror as I backed out of my parking space, and I found myself reflecting on my post here from the night before. 

I am not alone. I am part of a tribe, and I belong to Hashem.

And I put on some quiet meditation music and I began to talk to G-d. I talked about how I was feeling in the moment, about how I was struggling and felt as though I was failing. I talked about how I wasn't sure if I could keep doing this much longer but that I didn't see any way to lessen the stress of my life.

I can't quit school: I've come too far. And I can't quit work: it pays for school. And I can't quit my kid: obviously. 

I turned all of this over in my mind again and again as I drove, speaking freely and without consideration to Hashem. When I got to the hospital, I checked my phone to find that my husband had asked how he could support me better. A second text popped up from a friend asking me if I was still game to go to shul this Friday night.

I needed support, and it was given to me. I firmly believe that G-d was acting through my loved ones. I told my husband that I needed food and sleep, and I came home to dinner, dessert, and drinks. I accepted the prompt to go to shul. - I often don't go because I end up going alone.

I am not very good at asking for help or leaning into it if it's given to me. But I think that builds resentment, which weakens relationships, which leads to loneliness and more. It feels like I am learning the need for community in all aspects of my life right now. I just need to learn to graciously accept it. We're better together.