There are days when as soon as I wake I feel it beckoning. Reaching to me with outstretched hands, welcoming my misery, telling me to indulge and give in. A migraine, though off on the distant horizon, is trying to come back. Sneaking its way into a weak moment. After a restless night, where I couldn't string two hours of sleep together at one time, it makes its move. And it's appealing. The thought of giving in, having an excuse for crabbiness, an excuse to lay on the couch and try to ignore the duties that come with being a stay at home mom. It whispers sweet nothings of how it's going to try to help and get me to close my eyes for a few minutes more, that the pain will be worth the rest. Slump your shoulders. Close your eyes. Ignore the world. It's worth it.
But it's not. Nothing is worth that pain. And the pain that comes after realizing how many minutes, hours, days have gone by where I've succumbed and have let my kids watch movies all day long. Have said that I did not have the strength to be their mother. Have let my mind and body gone to waste because it was the easy way.
So this morning, after few moments of sleep and consoling a crying baby were patched together, it beckoned. And I was this close to taking it up on its offer. I put off my shower, waiting until my husband left for work to decide what today would bring. It wasn't a shower.
We packed up and went for a drive.
I love driving. Strapping the kids into their carseats, stopping to get a hot drink and a treat, hitting the road for a few moments where the kids can't reach each other and I'm in control of the wheel. Music, beautiful scenery, and a little bit of peace. Moments to think and pray and compose. Thankfully my children are the best passengers, occasionally drifting off for a few moments, but most of the time they watch as the world goes by. We look for train tracks, Christmas lights, and horses. We drive through the more populated areas until we reach our areas country, speckled with horses wearing blankets to keep warm, and haystacks with a slight snow covering. We drive the loop which our car could take us without anyone behind the wheel. We drive until the fear is gone, replaced by clarity and a plan for the day.
Strength doesn't always come easily, or at all at times; but when it's there and I have a choice, I chose to drive.