I'm Trying, But I'm Tired

Trying to rebuild a life, hold on to faith, and keep moving forward when nothing seems to be changing.

I am struggling.

I am working Uber Eats right now. The weather is getting cooler, and the reality is that this isn't going to work for much longer. I need something more sustainable, and I need it soon.

I've also been dealing with some difficulties involving my second daughter. During our supervised visit last week, she said something about the person responsible for the home where she lives. It was something that person would likely find offensive. The problem is that she said it during our visit, which, although supervised, should still provide some degree of privacy.

I have some questions about what confidentiality actually means in this context. My understanding is that my children have a right to privacy in their communications with me. I understand that there may be legitimate reasons for information from supervised visits to be documented or retained, but I struggle to understand why something said during a visit should then be used to confront a child or impose consequences.

I won't repeat what my daughter said here. The details aren't particularly relevant, and I think my children deserve some privacy. What matters is that whatever she said was relayed to the person responsible for her home. My daughter was quite upset by the reaction. Her allowance was taken away, and she wasn't given much of an explanation.

I was upset, too. I wanted to advocate for my daughter and better understand the rules surrounding these visits. I emailed the social worker assigned to my older two children. She responded the following day, but my question about confidentiality and privacy wasn't answered. So I sent another email asking essentially the same thing.

I don't think I'm asking too much. I want my children's privacy respected, and I want my own rights respected as well. There isn't a court order requiring these visits to be supervised, although the lawyer Legal Aid provided suggested that cooperation would make things simpler. I'm willing to cooperate. What I'm not willing to do is feel like I'm being walked all over. I want better communication with these people.

For me, there's something sacred about the relationship between a parent and child. Even when visits need to be supervised, I believe there should be some recognition that the conversations taking place belong to that relationship. Unless there's a credible threat of harm, I don't see why those conversations should be used to create problems for a child afterward. There's a difference between retaining information for legitimate reasons and using it to interfere with the relationship itself. I worry about the damage this can do to the trust between my daughter, me and the other adults in her life.

Halloween was interesting. I had really hoped to spend some time with my children, particularly my younger two, but that didn't happen. Instead, I went out doing Uber Eats and tried to make some money. I even decorated my bike for the occasion.

Unfortunately, I made a small oversight that ended up costing me. Before packing my second battery, I failed to check whether it was actually charged. That mistake cost me a considerable amount of potential income. By the time I realized what had happened, I barely had enough power to make it home.

I'm still incredibly stressed about my employment situation and finances. I keep applying for jobs I'm qualified to do, and I keep getting very little response. I don't particularly want to go back to another minimum-wage job, but I'm running out of options. Uber Eats is becoming increasingly unsustainable. The colder weather affects the bike's battery, and I've had some rather unfortunate mechanical problems along the way. Between the uncharged battery and a pedal that sheared off, I've lost opportunities to earn money that I really couldn't afford to lose.

I'm not asking for a handout, but I really need a hand up. I need an opportunity. This is not a good feeling.

I also had to take a course at my church because I volunteer there. It's called Plan to Protect, and its purpose is to help organizations establish safeguards against abuse and protect the people they serve.

I had a few moments during the course when I wasn't particularly comfortable. I couldn't help wondering whether people were quietly judging me because of my past. I'd be incredibly naïve to think that nobody knows about it. Sometimes I wonder whether people can separate the person sitting in front of them today from the person they remember, or the things they've heard about.

I got through the course, and I'm actually glad I took it. There was some useful information that could come in handy outside of church, too. One interesting aspect was that the course didn't just cover children. It also discussed what they called "vulnerable adults." The definition was quite broad, suggesting that almost any adult could potentially find themselves in a vulnerable position.

Anxiety was one example that came to mind. By that definition, I could be considered a vulnerable adult when seeking pastoral care for my anxiety. It doesn't change anything about how I approach those relationships, but it was interesting to consider.

Despite some of the discomfort I experienced, I do feel good knowing that my pastor trusts me enough to serve at the church. That means something to me.

Sometimes I think people underestimate how exhausting it is to rebuild your life. It's not just about finding a job or having somewhere to live. It's about trying to rebuild relationships, establish trust, regain some independence and find a sense of purpose again. Every little step seems to require an enormous amount of effort. And when something goes wrong, it can feel like you're right back where you started. I'm tired of constantly having to fight for things that most people probably take for granted.

I'm now at a point where I'm crying out to God. I need something to work. Something has to give. I've been working so hard at doing what I'm supposed to do and improving myself that it feels almost criminal that I can still feel like I'm drowning on any given day.

I keep being told things like, "Give it to the Lord." Honestly, that's becoming tiresome. I understand the sentiment, and I know people mean well, but I'm finding myself increasingly frustrated with people suggesting that I should just "give it to God." At the same time, I feel like I'm wrestling with God himself.

If I'm being completely honest, I'm angry with God. I don't particularly like admitting that, but it's where I am right now. I keep asking Him for help, for direction, for something to change. I'm trying to do what I believe I'm supposed to do. I'm trying to make better decisions, take responsibility for my life and move forward. Yet I keep running into one obstacle after another. I'm not expecting God to make my problems disappear, but I would really like to see something start working in my favour.

I don't know what I'm supposed to make of all this. Am I missing something? Am I being impatient? Am I supposed to learn something from all of this that I haven't figured out yet? Or am I simply going through a difficult season that I have to endure? I don't have those answers, and I'm finding that increasingly difficult to reconcile with my faith.

At the end of the day, no matter how well-intentioned these people are, I'm still the one who has to get up every morning and figure out how to make things work. I'm still the one trying to find employment, trying to rebuild relationships with my children and trying to establish some stability in my life. I can pray about those things, and I do. But I'm also getting tired. I'm running out of ideas, and I'm running out of patience. I don't know how much longer I can keep approaching every day with the same determination when I keep seeing so little change.

God, I just can't do this anymore. I can't keep going like this. I still haven't gotten any closer to seeing my younger two children than I was last year. My life really feels unfair at this point.

I find myself thinking about Psalm 77:7–12. It's a passage that doesn't shy away from difficult questions. The writer wonders whether God has rejected him, whether His love has come to an end and whether His promises have failed. These aren't particularly comfortable questions, but they're honest ones.

What I find interesting is that the psalm eventually shifts toward remembering what God has done in the past. The writer deliberately recalls God's works and faithfulness. I find that particularly meaningful because I think there's a difference between remembering what God has done and understanding what He's doing in your life right now.

I can look back at my own life and recognize that things have changed. I know I've made mistakes, and I know I've made changes. I can see some of the ways God has carried me through difficult circumstances. But that doesn't mean I'm not struggling with where I am today.

I find some comfort in knowing that these kinds of questions aren't foreign to faith. Sometimes we struggle. Sometimes we wonder where God is in the middle of everything we're experiencing. Sometimes we don't have much more to offer than an honest cry for help.

I don't know what is going to happen. I have been trying different things, but I am still not getting the results that I need. I don't expect that someone will wave a magic wand and give me a job, a place to live, a car and my children back, but sometimes my life feels hopeless.

Every time I take a step back and assess where I am in my life, I see painful reminders of where I was and how far I fell. I don't see how far I've climbed out of the pit I found myself in. I know I've made some progress, but it feels almost imperceptible. I look at my life and see where I've made changes, but I don't see where my circumstances have caught up or improved.