Sometimes I'm so tired, I break down crying on the way to work. And although I am in the middle of moving into my own little apartment with my sweet girl and my darling pup and there are literally bags and boxes everywhere, the bags I'm referring to in the title of this post are the ones residing under my eyes.
If I told you it has been easy, I would be lying. It has been many things, but easy has not been one of them. There are days that the work of motherhood and career and paperwork and daycare drop offs and screaming baby commutes get the best of me. There are days, even with all the love I am surrounded by, I feel very alone. There are days I cancel dates with nice, probably well-intentioned men because I just don't have the energy, emotionally or otherwise. I tell said men I'm really busy this week and that I'll get a hold of them when things settle down, knowing - deep down - that the call or text to announce things have settled down might not ever come. And, on those days, the tears roll down my face. Because it's hard and because it hurts. And because second only to loving my daughter, the silent work I am doing most while I make that loud commute and type up my usually late paperwork and drop off my curly haired girl is healing my bruised heart.
But I'm not really supposed to blog about this, am I? I'm supposed to post pretty pictures that edit out the bags under my eyes (and any other imperfections I might have in that particular photo). I'm supposed to write about trips to Greece and nice, probably well-intentioned men. I'm supposed to present the life I want you to think I have, but really don't because, in certain parts of the blogging world, that's just the way it's done. Not here, though. Not on this blog. Why? Because I started this little space of mine on the internet to write, to set the words inside me free and the only way to do that is to tell the truth, my truth. So, here it is...
I'm tired. I'm bruised. But even through the hurt and the exhaustion and the tears that sometimes fall, I feel a peace and a strength I haven't in years... And, earlier today, after I carried those heavy boxes up the stairs and into what will soon be my new residence, I sat down on the floor, looked around, wrapped Violet in my arms and cried. Because I was tired. Because I was bruised. And because I was finally home.