I am struggling.
My hands are shaking, my head is weird. The sun is running late and I think I over caffeinated my coffee, which is hard to do with decaf. My screen is too bright and it is too cold by my clothes are just too close to my skin. I cannot get my glasses clean. My desk feels very loud.
But I am still here. I promised us both I would be. Because #powerrehab.
Yesterday was a mild, steady day. I soaked in some much needed sunlight before hobbling through Ikea with Bryan to pick up things for his new office. It’s a very odd thing to have him around on a weekday, to have him unattached to email, with no terribly urgent phone calls in the car, no hushing the children while he expertly directs a conference call. He looked at his phone occasionally, always a little confused by its silence.
After seven years of balancing life as a senior vice president of a digital marketing agency while also the worship pastor of our church, the scales finally tipped, and my husband left the high powered executive life on Friday. It has been a purposeful though immensely heavy seven years for our family. And now instead of rushing out the door every morning already on a call, to catch a plane, to step into a meeting, to put out a fire, to close a deal, to take the fall, he is going to church.
I grew up a preacher’s kid and am a former church staff member myself, so I am aware that this role is not without it’s share of many of those difficult things…but still, it is a very different world from the cold, often soul sucking one he has stepped into each morning for these many years. I think he could sleep for seven more just to recover. Maybe instead of a desk we should’ve just picked up a nice bed for him. I guarantee if the church just provided him a bed and a guitar, Sunday mornings would go off without a hitch.
So yes. My day 15 revolved around my sweet husband, trying to orient himself in this strange, still new world, and keep my children from killing themselves with Swedish home goods.
You can guess that this change was a long time coming. You can also guess that though very much welcome, it was one of the several odd contraptions in the Rube Goldberg machine of my mental health moment. We are still working through how unfair and untimely that seems, but also sorting through the weird and wonderful grace that has shown up with it.