Resting at 0

During the last week I have come to the realization that I have arrived at 0. I have worked very hard in my life with the goals of being a good mother, a reliable employee, a trustworthy friend, a published writer, and human being prepared for old age. I have arrived unprepared. I am back to 0.

All the things I worked hard to be don’t seem to matter anymore. My children are grown. Divorced, I am not the pillar of strength they are looking for. They don’t remember me as the one who took them on adventures, soothed them when they were sick, taught them truths about life.

Nope, I am simply a woman who happens to be  their mother, full of flaws and failures.

I worked hard as an employee to win awards and get my picture on the wall for my accomplishments. But once I retired, they mailed my picture back to me. It is as if I never existed.

And speaking of writing, I was so close. But now I haven’t the stamina to fix my computer issues. I’m defeated. If I can’t even get a printer to wake up out of sleep mode, how can I reset my own creativity and resurrect the novel lying finished but dormant.

The world goes on around me. I am on pause. I can’t mend myself. I’ve fought battles from every angle. I’m alive, but I have retreated to my hiding place. I am resting at 0. I have many wounds. All I can do is pray that the Lord mends me.

I’m not able to mend myself. Not this time.

I have no idea if anyone will see this as rest from my retreat.