I feel helpless.  For big reasons and little reasons, life has me grasping at the wind, desperate for something to hold on to that will make anything better.  I’m not a pull yourself up by the bootstraps kind of person.  I’m flailing.  All of the things that I’ve never felt good enough at anyway are slipping through my fingers more and more.  All of the things that I’ve never quite been able to organize are just becoming more of a mess.

And what I find perhaps most frustrating is that I don’t actually care about much of it.  Honestly?  How well my kids learn history doesn’t matter to me.  Diagramming sentences seems absolutely ridiculous.  I’m not bothered by dust on the bookshelves.  Most days, I don’t even notice unfinished window trim and peeling wallpaper.  But for various reasons, these are all things that have to matter to me, whether they really do, or not.  And I should be able to do something about all of them.  The problem is that there are things that are monumentally important to me, that I desperately want to fix, that are out of my hands.  So, I am distracted and unmotivated with the rest of life because my brain burns itself out trying to solve an unsolvable problem.

I’m failing.  And I wonder where God is.  Why isn’t He helping me?  Why can’t I sleep more than a couple hours without back pain?  Why can’t I exercise without getting headaches?  Why is it so hard to follow a schedule, or speak gently, or correct schoolwork?  Why are we alone in this?  Why are we in this at all?

I ask, but I don’t get answers.  It makes me want to give up on all of it.