My life needs me to be big, but today I am small.
My body is screaming at me to escape dangers that my eyes can’t see. To stand tall and face the invisible things that threaten. Instead I want to huddle in the corner, to curl up into a ball with my hands over my ears until it all goes away. But that moment isn’t coming. The storm rumbles on as it does every day, every single damn day, and I feel tiny and frail.
My life needs me to be strong, but today I am weak.
Run, attack, defend, it demands. Be bold, be strong, be smart. But I am tired, so tired of holding up the world. And yet there is nowhere for me to set it down, not even for a moment.
My life needs me to be grown, but today I am a child.
How can it be that I’m responsible for so much when just yesterday I was ten. Wasn’t I? When did I get put in charge? Who decided I was ready? My needs are so many, too many, too big for just one person to manage. I want a warm lap to crawl into, a safe haven where nothing is expected of me but to be cuddled and coddled and sung to and rocked and protected until I fall asleep.
Because today, I am small.
Image from Flickr user purplemattfish