Skip to main content

To Be Alive

I wrote the following a year and a half ago.

"We believe in being honest, true, chaste, benevolent, virtuous, and in doing good to all men; indeed, we may say that we follow the admonition of Paul-We believe all things, we hope all things, we have endured many things, and hope to be able to endure all things. If there is anything virtuous, lovely, or of good report or praiseworthy, we seek after these things." Articles of Faith #13

It's ironic almost to the point of laughter that this is the scripture we have have been focusing on this month in Primary, children's Sunday school. Almost.


"We have endured many things, and hope to be able to endure all things." It makes me want to laugh... if only to keep from crying.


It's no secret that life in the Marrott household is never dull. In our nearly fifteen years of marriage we've endured: twelve moves (to include those of the international variety), several separations (of the military variety), fifteen surgeries, sixteen hospitalizations, several family deaths, multiple job losses (though one is technically called a retirement), not to mention the rare medical anomalies, financial challenges, mental health crises, homeschooling, public schooling, military schooling, and the regular, run-of-the-mill, daily grind of family life. Yes, we have endured many things.


I have to admit though, I've been pretty sure lately that I'm not able to endure all things.


The thing is, we seem to go from one crisis to another, with little to no recovery time in between. And I am exhausted. Like, marathon runner exhausted. I've never run a marathon, but I've heard that it takes some time to recover. Your legs are all jello-y and things you take for granted, like walking, are suddenly incomprehensible. This I totally get.


This summer, things I took for granted, you know, like getting out of bed each day, were incomprehensible. Too hard. Too much. It was all so overwhelming and my jelly legs couldn't bare the weight of it. I laid in bed for days at a time, reading, escaping, trying to recuperate.


Something a marathon runner will tell you though, is that even though it can be painful to walk the next day after the race, walking is exactly what you need to be doing. Notice, I said walking, not running. You need to be up and moving, but you could very well seriously damage your body if you push it without allowing it to recover.


Since I wrote that I've started a new career (and was a finalist for First Year Teacher of the Year); I've written, not as much as I'd like, but I have written a few short stories (one of which won an honorable mention in the prestigious contest) and I'm in the beginnings of a new novel; I've made new relationship; I'm fostered and deepened existing relationship; I've read too many books, graded too many papers, cooked too many meals to count. I've kissed my loves a thousand times. All proof that I am indeed up and moving.

But there are times, despite how good life is, how much good I have accomplished, that it's still ridiculously hard to get out of bed. Times when the house is filthy, when the kids eat cereal for three meals a day. There are times when papers go ungraded and plans go unexecuted. Not long ago, I was diagnosed with osteoarthritis in my neck and spine and arthritic joints in various other parts of my body, which has slowed me down. I continually struggle with PTSD triggers, though it is getting better. I am recognizing triggers and set backs sooner and processing and recovering faster. All things considered, time marches on. The world steady turns in its orbit. And, for better or worse, I am making my mark on the world everyday. For that I am grateful. 


Every moment I am given, I will keep moving on. To struggle is to progress. To struggle is to learn and to love. To struggle is to hone purpose. To struggle is to be alive. Keep calm and carry on, my loves. Every day is a godsend.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Being Dismissed from Services

I heard those dreaded words today. "I'm afraid that most likely your child doesn't qualify for services anymore." I paused afraid that if I responded too soon I'd yell or cry. I asked a few clarifying questions, blinking back tears of panic. I held my own for nearly the entire conversation. And then the therapist said, "You should be so proud, Mom. He's made so much progress." Then, I cried. The truth is he has made so much progress. The truth is I am very proud of him. Still, the truth is I hate hearing those words. Every time a specialist says to me that one of my children "no longer qualifies" for services, bile-like panic rises in my chest. "But he still has such anger issues," I said. And, "His impulsiveness gets in his way on a daily basis," I added. Doesn't she know? Can't she see the things I see? "I did tell you that he pulled a knife on his brother last week, didn't I?" Somehow she h...

Diligence and Obedience Bring Safety and Peace

I've had a few people ask for copies of a talk that I recently gave in our ward's Sacrament meeting, so I am putting it here with the thought that maybe others will appreciate it too. Please find at the end a reference list for all sources I used in planning and preparing this talk. Diligence and Obedience Bring Safety and Peace Today we live in an unstable world. Due to this instability many are security obsessed. They buy the top-of-the-line locks and alarm systems for our homes and our vehicles. They buy expensive insurance policies, even for their pets. They invest their money in stocks and bonds to "keep it safe." We have large militaries and governments. We have nuclear weapons as deterrents. We band hand lotion and breast milk and nail clippers from airplanes. We even go so far as to invade others privacy in the name of security, so that we ourselves can be safe. That's not to say that any, or all, of these things are wrong or even unne...

Beautiful Disaster: His own brand of Awesome

Published on the Liahona Project, link here I took my oldest son back-to-school shopping the other day.  It was.... awesome.  sad.  exciting.  funny. inspiring.  surprising.  mama-heartbreaking. Big Brother was diagnosed with Asperger's Syndrome in 2009, when he was eight years old.  It was years of evaluations and developmental preschools and speech therapists.  Years of teachers bringing their concerns to me and me taking those concerns to doctors and, and, and...  years of misdiagnoses.  It was years of meltdowns and vomiting and aggression and wondering feet, running feet and hearing him say things like "I'm a bad son.  I'm going to let a car hit me," as those feet took him out the front door. And then that moment, that singular sentence, "Your son is on the spectrum," that changed everything, that changed nothing.  That bitter-sweet recognition that he was, in fact, atypical. And we've had years in between that the...