The first month at a new church

I'm not even sure how to start writing this or what I want to say.

My husband was home for a total of two days to get the house ready for our family of four and then jumped into full time work, with an even more irregular schedule than he had at our last church.

The grocery store is 24 minutes away. Just long enough for both my kids to fall asleep at the wrong time and one or both of them to pee their pants.

My kids currently would rather burn all their belongings than attend children's church.

At nap time I fold laundry in a house that isn't home and I can't remember where the laundry goes now.

I wanted this so badly but I'm afraid I'm hating it.

I had to go from a church service mourning our leaving to a service of joyous arrival and cake pop celebrations in the span of 7 days.

I've already fallen short on "keeping in touch".

I've been trained through years of seminary and church work to make friends hard and fast but I'm terrified of making the wrong ones.

I haven't slept more than 4 hours per night in 3 weeks. Not because of my kids. But because of anxiety that's threatening to crush my chest but never actually gives me the satisfaction of finishing the job.

Depression is creeping in and locking me in a hopeless spiral that leaves me emotionally unreachable, even to myself.

My period came again and I didn't want it to.

I should love this church service but I can't hear any of it because my kids are stage 5 clingers now and don't go to children's church and the sermon is 22 minutes long.

I've hosted 4 families in 3 weeks in a partially unpacked house.

Our new kitchen flooded and our house was a construction zone for 3 days, totally ruining any trust my kids had in this house. My oldest asks every day if the worker men are coming back.

My husband leaves for 3 days tomorrow for a conference.

My toddler refuses point blank to pee on the potty in the new house. I'm running out of laundry detergent and 2T pants. Send help and leggings.

My three year old and I are currently locked in a battle of wills that may lead to my demise or mental collapse.

And we got a bunch of gift cards to Kroger.

I don't even shop at Kroger.

I want to meet new people because I so desperately want a community and yet I'm so not ready to be part of a community but if I don't engage now will I become obsolete when I'm ready to join in?

I need a village but I can't bring myself to be a villager.

I need to cry loudly and in a very ugly way to someone about infertility and change and ministry and potty training but can't trust yet.

I need a night out but don't know who to leave my kids with, even though 527 people have offered.

I feel like I drove this change because I was unhappy and I was struggling but what if the bus I was driving is falling apart and is actually a unicycle?

We bought a king size bed because I couldn't handle our full size for a second longer but I've never felt so far away from my husband. But I also hate touching while I sleep.

My husband reaches out to touch me and the tears leak from my eyes for no reason and all the reasons.

He asks me what's wrong and I say everything

He says haven't you been counting down the days to this?

I say yes. But it isn't what I expected.

He says it's a phase.

I say I hate phases.

He chuckles.

I think about punching him in the throat.

He says we'll love it and we'll adjust.

I cry more. Ugly tears. You know the type.

He says why don't you blog?

I do, after I blow my nose in a gross way.

I scream into a void and hope that there's another pastor's wife reading this and that I'm not alone on my metaphorical unicycle. I hope that we can be there for each other on our unicycles and our grief and our resentment and our joy and all the weirdness that is being a pastor's wife.

And now maybe I'll sleep.

Maybe I'll sleep for 5 hours tonight.

Love,

The Pastor's Wife