The End of Herself

In church last week our pastor was preaching on the woman who had the bleeding illness for 12 years, and was healed after simply touching the bottom of Jesus' garment. During the sermon our pastor was trying to express the severity of this woman's plight: she was outcast from her community, she was sick, probably anemic, she'd spent all her money on doctors and had not gotten better, "she was," our pastor said, "at the end of herself" when she came to Jesus and just tried to touch the hem of his robe, in faith that she'd somehow be healed.  And she was.

This phrase stuck in my mind because I felt it described how I've been recently.  No, I do not have a disease that has caused me to lose all money and hope of cure, so that's not really what I mean. But I have been overwhelmed, exhausted, and confused.

We started school back in July.  This seemed reasonable; we'd missed a lot due to my husband's cancer treatments in 2018, and the long, lazy days of summer seemed to almost beg for a little more structure.  We did a bit of schoolwork and also went to the pool and spent tons of time playing outside, and that was alright. But as August progressed, and our fall schedule loomed, I grew weary. At one point I told my husband "I'm feeling burned out."  And he looked at his watch in jest.  "I KNOW!" I responded. "It's only August! This is not good."

For the first time ever, I was genuinely tired of being both the teacher and the mother.  I just wanted to be the mother! I wanted to be in charge of the fun things, but not responsible for anyone's educational experience.  The idea of school exhausted me. I texted a few friends for prayers.  This isn't good, I noted, because I'm already such a minimalist that I can't cut anything else out!

Contemporaneously with all this, I was diagnosed with a physical issue that had caused some trouble for a few months.  It appears to be relatively minor, but it's annoying.  (I'm being sent to an oncologist next week for a second opinion to be SURE they think it's minor; I feel confident that it is.) So I began to change my diet and sleep routine in an attempt to heal the issue naturally, since the only medical treatment is a major surgery that I definitely want to avoid!

I'm a champion sleeper, but recently I've found myself awake at 3a.m. some nights, blinking into the darkness and not quite sure why. I'm more scattered than usual. I have forgotten things, dropped the ball, and gotten confused. I missed an appointment.  I lose things. I'm highly organized most of the time, and for the past couple of weeks I've been....barely organized!  It's strange, and a little unsettling.  I'm worn out for no apparent reason.

A friend was talking to me about this by the clothesline a couple weeks ago and she reminded me that last year was a very intense year for our family.  Two cancer surgeries, multiple biopsies, multiple PET scans, living out of the state for a couple of months, radiation and its severe side effects, feeding tubes, dealing with insurance, chemotherapy, etc.  It could have been so much worse, and as a Pollyanna-type I always look on the bright side.  We had an amazing support system, our insurance paid for early everything my husband needed without issue (except that sometimes I had to do a few things on my end to get that done)(and this was probably about $1,000,000 worth of treatments), and his employer was wonderful.  So, I felt that although we were going through a hard time, we had so many blessings all around us. I still feel that way. 

My friend pointed out that last year my job was holding space for everyone.  Holding space for my husband's illness and then healing. Being everyone's emotional support.  Running our lives as smoothly as I could. And I did this well--because I cut way, way back on my expectations of myself and others.  And maybe, after all this caring for others, even in a quiet, simplified way--maybe I'm just worn out. 

And in the midst of all this mental scatterbrained behavior, physical jumble of symptoms, and general homeschool burnout, our academic year was starting with many obligations: piano and violin lessons, Spanish class, co-op, ballet lesson, robotics club.  I felt--feel--like I'm drowning and want to just stay home and mulch my flower beds and organize the closet, but these outside activities are things that we genuinely value!

I talked to/emailed a couple of wiser homeschooling mothers who have done this for longer than I have (like Sarah! my kindred spirit in the Pacific Northwest) to get some advice.  Sarah helped a lot, sharing her perspective on what really matters in the years before high school, and how to deal with things when Life Overwhelms (she has been there!).  Everyone says, in essence, do less.  Give yourself grace.  It's alright to feel burned out.  Scale back.  Which is funny because of course this is the advice that I give to others when they're dealing with crises....it's just that I'm not in a crisis. I'm just....tired. 

Last night as I blinked into the darkness at 3am, tears of frustration in my eyes, I felt like I had reached "the end of myself."  Whatever is wrong with me is obviously something that a perfectly-organized home and precise schedule can't solve; in other words, I can't pull myself up by the bootstraps. I can't manage my life to get rid of this problem.  Last year was a year of true surrender for me, and last night I realized--once again--I need to keep that posture of surrender.  So often I throw my energy into tackling my life, but some things can't be solved by working harder.  I think this problem is only solved by elbowing my way through the thick crowd of noisy distractions and touching the hem of the garment of Jesus.

Seriously.  

Last year when we were home from radiation and chemo and my husband was recovering, we had very slow days. I started my chores each morning by listening to hymns, specifically Page CXVI.  Nearly every morning I listening to "Nothing but the Blood" and repeated this refrain, over and over again.....

this is all my hope and peace

this is all my righteousness 

When we were in that sad, quiet time of slow healing and horrible sickness and feeding tubes and painful mouth sores and waiting for December and the PET scan results, singing this is all my hope and peace while I rinsed dishes was my honest worship, and was the best, most therapeutic start to the day.  It was my reminder of where I put my trust and hope. 

Where does that leave me now?  I'm completely re-thinking my priorities for this fall.  It's funny that I started to write a couple posts on Charlotte Mason minimalism, because it looks like I'm not out of that season at all just yet!  I will continue to write more on that as the year progresses.  

My priorities for this fall are: 

*reading/quiet time every day. Devotional. Journal. Bible.  Thinking. Praying.

*Exercise a few days a week. In my ideal world I work out daily for an hour or more.  And I've done that before! But it's probably not realistic this fall.   I'll give myself grace and aim for 4 days or so per week. 

*taking care of the house in a "good enough" way, not a "perfection" way

*minimalist homeschooling (more on this in another post)

*sleep

...and everything else will just have to get filled in around these priorities.  Or not done at all. :) 

My husband said recently that he really wants to ENJOY this fall. He loves autumn and was so sick last year that he couldn't enjoy it at all.  So pumpkin-carving, leaf-jumping, cider-sipping, gingerbread-eating, and hikes take priority over schoolwork (and, if I'm honest, housework).  After all, he's healthy and he's alive!  We must take time to celebrate this and relish the reality of his healing.  

Last year one practice I had was to try to slow down intentionally all the time. Instead of rushing through my chores, I tried to slowly do them.  Slow down and enjoy fluffing the duvet.  Slow down and enjoy folding laundry.  Slow down while washing dishes.  I suppose I get less done this way, but I definitely feel better when purposefully moving slowly.  As life has normalized for us, my pace has increased.  So I'm dialing it back. Way back!

I'm going to try to be kind and gentle to myself, to sit on the deck or porch each day for a few minutes, get fresh air, knit a dishcloth. Simple things. And I'm going to do them in a spirit of gratitude and thanksgiving, remembering that my hope and peace don't come from my planner (as great as my planner is) or my management skills, they come from leaning on my Savior and turning to Him when I'm feeling discouraged, exhausted, and overwhelmed.  

And that is how I hope to hold onto the hem of His garment.