Grateful, but…

I’ve heard a few sayings along the line of “it’s impossible to be grateful and anxious, or grateful and depressed.”  I know there is some truth in that, but… life and truth is full of tension and conflict. 

I cannot put into words how grateful I am for my family. I have a gorgeous wife who loves me and and is committed to us. We celebrate 20 years of marriage in a few months, and I couldn’t be more blessed. I have four wonderful, healthy kids who I can just think about and start smiling. Being their dad is truly my proudest role. I have a career with great purpose and a skillset that helps me be relatively successful.  I’m blessed. However, I often feel conflicting emotions about my blessings. 

My work is a blessing. It’s meaningful and rewarding- but it is simultaneously heavy and stressful. As I think about my job, I appreciate that my sacrifice of stress goes to provide a loving home and care to those who are in need. Yet I also know there are many burdens that come with the job that are impossible to ignore. I dream of the day that I feel it’s ok to hand it over. 

I don’t want to sound overly dramatic.  There are conflicting moments that I have that I imagine others can just simply enjoy.  Something as simple as having Anna at 16 years old come and lay her head and arm across my chest when I’m taking a Power Nap. I feel so weak in that moment. I feel vulnerable. I feel afraid knowing one day I may not be there for her. I feel mortal. I try to enjoy the moment, and I actually do relish it, yet I’m pained knowing it’s just a moment. 

No other life goal trumps my desire to become an old, strong grandpa. I want to be the rock my kids and grandkids can lean on. I want them to see how I love and honor their matriarch. I want to show them the way.  I want to be what and who they deserve to have. I’m afraid of leaving them. 

I am strong. I remind myself I’m weak. I guess I don’t really have to. I feel weak a lot. It’s like in the gym. I love the challenge of walking up to a loaded squat bar or pressing a heavy load off my chest. I’m not going let the weight win. But as soon as the lift is over I feel my blood pressure drop and the room gets dark for a second. I drop to one knee.  Similarly, I can handle the heavy weight, yet don’t ask my compromised discs to do a burpee to the ground or to do rx kettlebell swings. I’m kind of broken in that way. 

But I’m strong enough. I’m strong enough to carry the family business and the weight of stress that comes with it. I can look back on some shitty seasons and know I made it through (maybe barely). I’m strong enough to provide for and lead my family. I’m strong enough to not throw in the towel and do my damndest to be there for them. I’m strong enough to be honest with them. 

I think I am learning it’s ok to be both broken and strong. It’s ok to be blessed and burdened. It’s ok to be grateful for this amazing life I’m literally (or at least hopefully) right in the middle of, while also constantly being reminded that’s it’s temporary. 41 more years of this would be hard, but it would be.