It’s been a tough week, all around. My almost-two-year-old is testing my parenting skills in every way possible, and I have this ominous feeling that my journey through the ludicrousness that is toddlerhood has only just begun. This week, parts of my personal life have been acutely frustrating and irritating, to say the least. These things, as difficult as they are to me as an individual, pale in comparison to the chaos that is enveloping the world more and more each day. Let’s just say, this week has been a fight.
It is a fight to deal with my own problems this week, which are difficult, draining, adult problems which people all over the world can relate to. I know I am not alone in my experience with these real world adult problems, but it sure feels that way sometimes.
It is a fight to be a good mom this week, when everything I say or do is challenged by a small but ferocious human who has endless and unwavering ideas about how she wants to spend her time, how she wants to behave, and what she wants to eat or wear. Despite my best intentions and diligent efforts to care for my toddler, sometimes I am only met with resistance, and that is a fight.
It is a fight to watch the news, to face the destruction and devastation that has happened in Paris. It is a fight to read about the horrific things that are happening in Syria and Lebanon and Nigeria and Beirut, and other places around the world that are experiencing death, fear, and heartbreak.
It is a fight to grapple with myself, because I too was guilty of ignorance about terrorist tragedies happening around the world in places other than Paris. The truth is, I feel great sorrow for all places that are experiencing threats and destruction. My heart aches for all my brothers and sisters, all over the world, and that is a fight.
It is a fight to understand my own fears of war and danger, and then to understand the fears of my country, and then to understand the fears of those around the globe who have already seen the dangers firsthand. It is a fight to reconcile all these fears.
It is a fight to listen to this side and that side and the other side while they use heartbreaking events and innocent people to further their own agendas. It is a fight to feel that at this point we should be able to set aside differences of opinion and value the humanity of all people, especially those who have flown their own homes to run away from horrific atrocities, but I guess we are not quite there yet.
It is a fight to look at history, and imagine that it is soon going to repeat itself.
This week has been a fight. But I am still going. We are still going. In the end, we all fight- we may as well do it together.