Previous Challenge Entry (Level 2 – Intermediate)
Topic: BUSY (08/15/19)
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TITLE: It's Too Much | Previous Challenge Entry
By Sandra Alsworth
08/22/19 -
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I was sick of being poor. Sick of seeing my son’s holey socks and being unable to buy new ones. Sick of checking out at the market and discovering I was $5 short.
I was proud to be accepted to nursing school. In just a few years, I could help people all day and be paid for it. What could be better than that?
A few months later my pride changed to despair. All day I spent in classes, labs and shifts at the hospital. Then I went home to a messy house, laundry, dinners, and three children. A billion legos were spread across the house. No one was willing to pick them up.
I curled up in a little ball and cried. It’s too much, God! It’s too much! I can’t do this! Help me!
Breathe. Breathe in slowly and deeply. Hold it. Breathe out slowly. Shut my eyes. Turn off my mind. Think of nothing. Relax my head, then relax my neck, my arms, my back, my legs.
Regroup. Prioritize. What could I cut out? I used to make a nice dinner each night. Now my "Quick & Easy Dinners" cookbook is nearly worn out. We could do more fast food. The kids can make themselves sandwiches. I can hide the legos until I graduate. Does that make me a bad mom? On the other hand, when my children see my income triple, they will see firsthand the importance of an education. Yes, God, I think I can do this.
“Mom, can we go to the beach?” the kids begged. “Please, Mom, please?” My head throbbed at the thought of tomorrow’s test. The knot in my stomach twisted. Their pleading eyes gazed at me. Finally, I sighed, “OK. You grab towels, waters and the dog. I’ll grab my keys and textbooks.”
While the kids frolicked in the waves and buried each other in the sand, I sat on a piece of driftwood, shading the bright sun from my book with my open hand. Each time I turned the page, I wiped the sand off the book or it would make little gritty bumps under the pages.
While I learned that “borborygmus” is the medical word for the sound of a hungry stomach, the sun warmed my back, the breeze cooled my face and the roaring waves calmed my soul. What a great idea to come to the beach.
On day, a few months before I reached my dream, I collapsed on the couch after a brutal test. My rest was interrupted by a knock on the door. My friend lost her job and was living in a van with her two girls. It was freezing outside. Could her girls stay with us that night?
The next day there was another knock on the door. It was a DHS worker. There had been complaints. They were taking custody. Did we want to become foster parents? No. Yes. Not now. I’m in college. But I can’t let them go live with strangers. Why are crises so inconvenient?
I curled up in a little ball and cried. It’s too much, God! It’s too much! I can’t do this! Help me!
Breathe. Breathe in slowly and deeply. Hold it. Breathe out slowly. Shut my eyes. Turn off my mind. Think of nothing. Relax my head, then relax my neck, my arms, my back, my legs.
Regroup. Prioritize. What could I cut out? While I’m studying, my oldest daughter can babysit the foster girls. All the kids can help with housework, and I can lower my expectations. We don’t need to have visitors in our home until I get my degree. I don’t have time to read the entire textbook; I’ll study the parts that will probably be on the test. Yes, God, I think I can do this.
A few months later my spirit soared when I saw my name on the state board of nursing website with the shining letters “RN” by my name. Over time I slowly relearned how to have fun, how to relax and not be 100% busy every moment of every day. Over time I reconnected with my longsuffering husband and gave my wonderful children the time they deserved. Over time I realized it wasn’t too much after all.
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