Don't Be afraid to Lift Heavy

And the world feels heavy right now.

Every aspect of my life has felt like a significant amount of weight has been added to it.

Parenting during a pandemic will go down in history, but parenting teens in a pandemic will live on in infamy.

The independence and trust they had worked their entire lives to earn suddenly got taken away, and we began treating them like toddlers again.

No sleepovers. No hanging out with friends. Did you wash your hands? Are you wearing a mask? What is your temperature?

I spent the last decade limiting their screen time, only to demand it now.

I don't know how to do this, and I worry constantly about whether I'm doing the right thing or permanently damaging them.

The good news is that every other parent is in the same boat.

(Even if my sons don't think that is true.)

While parenting may be the elephant in the room, let's add a donkey too, and have one of the most hostile political climates this country has ever seen.

Then all the murders.

I have never cried more for other mamas' babies than I have this summer.

Heavy, heavy world.

Relationships that used to feel easy suddenly feel complicated.

Some people have snapped under the pressure, and what is left is a side of them you had never seen before.

The heaviness of accepting a friend's opinion when you think it's fundamentally wrong, or deciding you simply can't move past it, can weigh down your heart until it feels like it is sitting in the pit of your stomach.

And marriage.

When we got married, we said "in sickness and in health," but nobody said anything about marital health during a deadly sickness.

Or about more togetherness than you ever thought was possible while you both try to work from home and fight for a strong Wi-Fi connection that your Wi-Fi-greedy children are already using.

We sealed our house so tightly in fear that we didn't allow enough air in, and it felt like I was suffocating.

These are the moments I need my parents.

All I want is to run away and get a hug from my mom and dad, but I can't because they are in the vulnerable category.

And what if I spread the virus to them?

Could I live with that?

All this worry feels not just uncomfortable, but unbearable and utterly impossible to carry.

When I'm at my low point, and my head fills with self-doubt—which has happened quite a few times over the past six months—I remember that woman at the gym who told me I was amazing.

She stood behind me and told me I could do it.

Fear is not going to lift the weight of this worry.

The belief that I can push through it will.

It is true that this time is going to go down in history as a struggle.

And no matter how strong I think I am, my muscle power alone can only do so much.

When I find darkness inward, I have to lift my head and look outward to see what is around me.

It is not all doom and gloom.