I don't want to be in the “healing process” anymore.

It feels like every time I think I'm about to turn the corner, that maybe I have figured something out—

reality has a different story for me.

People keep saying it's a season.

And generally, I agree with that.

But also.

I'm sick of it.

I'm sick of being where I'm at in life.

In this "season."

That doesn't ever seem to end.

I'm tired.

I'm tired of trying.

So hard.

Just to feel like I feel like I'd feel if I hadn't tried at all.

Like living in a loop.

A painful loop.

Or a numb one.

Day in and day out.

Feeling like no matter what I do—

I'm still here.

In the same place as I ever was.

So I push a little harder.

I push a little less.

I try to do more.

I try to do less.

And somehow,

I am doing not enough and too much.

And I feel totally lost and confused.

Why can I see it for other people?

What they need or what may be good for them?

I can give them permission.

And honestly, I do give myself permission.

But I'm kind of sick of it.

I don't want permission.

I want to finally get things done.

I want to feel like things are progressing.

Like I'm getting better.

Therapy.

Nervous system resets.

Bath.

Sleep.

But also.

Get up and go to work.

Make dinner.

Get the kids dressed.

And I still feel like nothing has changed.

My nervous system is still stuck, whatever that means.

I still feel tired.

And annoyed.

And behind.

And I'm still stepping on crumbs even though I just vacuumed.

Again.

Does a balanced, slow life even exist?

I have to—or want to—believe that it does.

But also, I kind of hate that the only way I see how that could happen is to let go of things I don't want to let go of.

Or can't.

I want to have a social life.

Have connections with friends.

Meaningful ones.

I want to be at my kids' soccer games.

I want to have a clean house.

And I want to feel joy, not just obligation, while doing these things.

And it seems like I can't have it all.

And I hate it.

I really do.

But I also know it's a season.

I know that one day I may not miss the rug sounding like I'm vacuuming up gravel—

but I will miss what that means.

And I know I can hold both of those things at the same time.

Annoyance.

And gratitude.

I can be grateful to be doing the things I can.

And annoyed I can't do more.

Be more.

Show up as the person I want to be to the people I care about.

Because I do have limits.

And as much as I have tried pushing them—

making them stretch further—

I can only do that for so long.

Until I need even more of a break.

I really hate having to recognize my limits.

I wish I could just be the person I want to be in all the ways.

And I don't really want to make myself feel better about that.

I don't want to turn it into another lesson.

Or another thing I'm supposed to accept correctly.

Maybe there isn't anything wrong with me.

Maybe I wish there was.

Because then I could fix it.

But if there isn't?

Then this part of me, in this season, is just where I am.

Crumbs and all.

Imperfect.

Not able to be the friend I want to be.

Not able to do all the things I want to do.

Not particularly happy about it.

And maybe that's okay too.

Maybe being healed isn't a destination.

Maybe I won't ever feel done.

Or ready.

Or totally capable.

And maybe I don't have to keep working on myself until I finally get there.

Because if I'm tired of the healing process,

maybe I don't need to heal my way out of that too.

Maybe I can just be tired of it.

I don't have to like every part of where I am.

I don't have to feel grateful for all of it.

And I don't think that means I'm never going to get out of this season.

It's just taking a whole lot longer than I thought it would.

And I'm ready to be done.

I'm annoyed that I'm not.

Maybe I don't have to try myself or shame myself out of that either.

Sometimes,

I just need to sit in the crumbs.

-Julia