It’s a sleepless night here in East Texas. My mind is a jumble of old hurt, new hurt, longing and mourning.
I turned 40 back in May, and I had hoped this was going to be my year of recovery and renewal. As a part of that I have been attempting to come to terms with my own brokenness.
In my head I picture an old sawdust doll who has been torn and ripped to pieces. All the pieces are there in a pile, and I can make all of her parts move individually, but she isn’t whole, sawdust is hard to pick up and put back where it goes. It takes time to get all of the sawdust back in and you can never get it all back like it was before. Most of the time there are only two options…Play with an empty shell of a doll or let her sit on a shelf and not move for fear of losing her hard gained sawdust.
This weekend it feels like most of my sawdust has blown away in the wind and there is no getting it back. Do I struggle to regain the sawdust or do I go on without it?? I know I will never be ‘normal’ or ‘average’. That boat sailed on without me 30+ years ago. But I would like to think that I’m at least a functional human, but tonight it doesn’t feel like I’m even that right now.
Thankfully, dawn is just a few hours away and the mundane will occupy my mind again.