I’m watching television and the guy is surfing. He can barely keep himself upright. The waves are coming one.after.another. and what he lacks in skill he makes up for in effort. Bless his heart. He’s drowning. The pro-surfer girl beside him keeps saying, “Hang on, paddle, breathe.”

He finally gives up and floats in. He looks terrible. As they sat side by side on the sand, he said, “that was literally 100 times harder than I thought.”

And I’m watching this and thinking that I want to be friends with that guy. Cause I get it.

I’m in over my head in a few different arenas. I’m not the only one. I know you feel this way too sometimes. We all do. This blog will not be full of complaints or whines. I’m just saying…. I’m not a good surfer.

And there are a lot of waves.

And the waves have a lot of faces.

A family member making ridiculous choices, so affecting to the rest of us that I DREAM nightly about a conversation I will never have.

A book with Westbow that once turned in, I can’t take back.

Friends with diseases.

A massive bit of internal turmoil [dramatic much?] regarding some stuff between me and God [here’s a hint] that is breaking my heart and yet nothing I can talk about.

A season of feeling unbelievably introverted, partly my own fault and partly things that people say that end in, “and you aren’t allowed to tell anyone that.”

Family drama [on the other side, if you can believe that] involving my parents having to be self-less and awesome and step into mess they never made. And it’s going to end really really great, but the process isn’t so great.

Big changes at Mocha Club that raise questions and I don’t have any answers.

Trying to comprehend grace and trying to connect with a God who the more I know the less I understand.

Food. Exercise. Choices. Lies in my head.

The waves the waves the waves.

Please don’t hear this as me whining. I’m a writer. When I write, I heal. When my fingers move across the keyboard and my head nods slowly in agreement and my throat closes up because I need to cry it out a bit and the tears are actually words, I am soothed. It’s like medicine. So forgive me if my medicine is making you sick.

I know. My life is not hard. People in Africa have no clean water. Homeless women on the streets fear winter. People lose family members suddenly.

I have a roof over my head. A job or two. So much food that it is embarrassing. [See above wave.] I have amazing parents and my health and friends and my life is not hard.

But I’m just not a good surfer and the waves right now are strong.

All I know, all I can do, is promise God that I won’t quit surfing if He won’t let me drown.

We’re good so far.