(I wrote this the very late the other night after a particularly hard day. I've debated about whether or not to post it. I am- simply because it's honest and though it sounds like I'm depressed, I'm not. It's how I feel about a certain trial in my life that seems to go on and on and on. Read it, but please, don't worry about me.)

Sometimes, life feels like I'm walking through a mud pit. It stretches out in front of me.  Not quite endless, but close.  The goal is there, I swear I can see it ahead. But, to get there-it's a long walk.
Each step forward is a strain. The muck makes a slurping, sucking sound as I pull my foot out. Forward, slowly forward. My toes sink, I steady myself, then step again. Each time, the layer sticking to my feet grows, thicker and thicker,  until I'm wearing mud boots.  My feet are heavy, my legs ache.  The goal is still so far away.
Then, for a brief moment, my feet break free and I am weightless. I stride forward, my heart is light.  I can make it, I can.
My feet sink and I am ankle deep. Again. I move forward, I must. Standing still, I would sink until I am buried in the sludge. Of this, I'm sure.
The goal is there. I can see it. Move, feet, move.


  1. I know the feeling some days are just like that. It was very well said.

  2. I feel like that a lot especially with the never ending loads of laundry, dishes, and diapers in front of me. One day at a time!

  3. What's up Jules. I am only a phone call away, unless I am the ongoing problem? I love you. Mom


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