by Liz Clark | Jul 9, 2015 | Boundaries
I lay awake in bed trying to calm down. Staring at the flitting shadows cast by the ceiling fan. Breathe in. Breathe out. A beautiful Saturday afternoon shone brightly behind the room-darkening shades pulled low over my bedroom windows. I was up early that morning to do laundry and clean the science-experiment-gone-wrong that was supposed to be my kitchen. Knowing I had to leave for work in an hour, I told myself that taking a “power nap” would help. But lying there, I only felt a sense of dread: soon I would have to push back the covers and face the world. “Pull it together,” I said out loud, trying to ignore the elephant-sized weight that felt as if it was sitting on my chest. You see, this version of me – this person hiding in bed with the shades drawn – wasn’t a familiar person. As far back as I can remember, when I would make up my mind to do something, I committed my plans to God and just got busy getting it done. Period. No matter how hard it was. I had dreams, a willingness to learn and a stubborn refusal to give up. That was the only “me” I knew. I knew about overcoming adversity. I put myself through college juggling 3 jobs to pay the bills. I spent the first 6 years of my marriage having 400 kids (ok, 4 kids, but I swear there was enough sleeplessness for at least 400 kids). I survived my husband’s Army career, including a deployment overseas, while working my fingers to the bone to get out of...
