Sometimes

This evening I escaped my house just before dinnertime to "run errands".

I needed a break from being interrupted and from feeling like my brain was atrophying. I needed to walk purposely without carrying an angry, thrashing toddler  in my arms, to eat without being asked to do something, to cry without worrying about someone else's feelings, and to accomplish something without being sabotaged by an avalanche of needs. I needed to not be responsible for dinner or the clean-up required afterwards. I needed to walk away.

So I did. I wearily climbed into my filthy, sticky car and drove away. With music blaring in my ears, I sobbed my heart out.  I let go. I raged and prayed and cried until I was spent. Then I pulled myself together and did my "errands". Afterwards I enjoyed a quiet , uninterrupted dinner of sushi and kombucha in the parking lot.

 Do you ever let yourself fall apart someplace safe?  Do you ever sob and yell in the car when you are alone? If you haven't, perhaps you should give yourself permission to.

I know that sometimes I just need the space to cry without worrying about anyone's feelings. Sometimes I need to growl in anger or yell at the top of my lungs without scaring anyone. Sometimes I just need to pour my heart out to God in prayer without waking the household. Sometimes, it is because I feel powerless as a mother, or a failure as a wife. Sometimes it is because I am  grieving, or frustrated, or burnt out. Sometimes it is just a culmination of many things that brings me to my knees.

I think that sometimes I have to break before I can feel whole. Sometimes I have to let myself FEEL instead of hiding from my emotions with various vices (social media, relationships, children, and food to name a few).  Sometimes I need to face those yucky feelings instead of shoving them into the deepest parts of myself. I also KNOW that I  should ALWAYS bring my frustration, hurt, brokenness, heartbreak, sorrow, grief and hatred to the feet of Jesus, but I often forget to do so until I am at my wits end.  Thankfully I know He can handle whatever I throw at Him, when I get around to doing so.  After I have spent myself I always have this sense that He cups my snotty, mascara stained face and whispers "beloved, I see you, I know you, and I love you"  and I can't help but return home softened, renewed and whole.