Today, I am feeling fed up.

I am tired of not knowing how to explain what I am feeling because I'm unsure of how I'm feeling.

I am tired of not voicing that I don’t know. I am tired of the endless trying that feels a lot less like learning and a whole lot more like agonizing striving. I am tired of feeling like I am never really enough while making "enoughness" my goal.

I am tired of injustice.

I am tired of the divisions in our country, in our world. I am tired of not knowing how to engage and being quiet because of my uncertainty.

I am tired of feeling bad about not loving a good chunk of motherhood

. . . being impatient, bored and selfish more times than feels acceptable.

I am tired of balancing what it means to be professional while still sharing just the right amount to make me likable and get attention.

I am tired of worrying about pretty Instagram pictures and engaging captions. I am tired of wondering what I am doing wrong and trying to analyze exactly what it is that I'm doing right.

I am tired of feeling uncertain about God, confused by who I thought He was and unclear about who He really is.

I am tired of all my thoughts about my faith being flung across the spaces of my mind, none of them remaining in the places they have taken up for so long.

I am tired of the routines of life,

the ones that make the days go by. I am tired of my desire to control them and judge them.

I am simply tired.

I always feel this need to include some hopeful little nugget that reminds us of our purpose and that there is real and lasting hope in the world. I believe that to be true, but I am tired of saying it. Let’s make that a given in our conversations here. With that out of the way, we can be honest about the fact that being a person is just so freaking hard sometimes for so many reasons.