Another cycle ends, and here we are again. It’s hard when all that’s supposed to signify renewal becomes a searingly painful reminder of how stuck you are. It isn’t easy to approach the process with the joy it rightfully deserves when something inside you cries haven’t I done this enough? I think of the excitement I once had, and how that slowly transformed, month in, month out. At times this is what saddens me most.

I sometimes wonder where I’ll find the strength to pick myself up, and do this, All. Over. Again. When you feel like you’re going nowhere fast, and this is just another step in a never-ending journey. I wonder what the point of it all is, when the hope for change seems too distant to touch. I know. I know that the process itself is worth the effort. I know that that’s an intrinsic value, not dependent on a monthly outcome. And yet…

It hurts to face your vulnerabilities. That whisper of maybe, that keeps coming back each month, no matter what preceded it. Sometimes I want to squash it with two hands and all my might, and sometimes I want to hold it tightly. Coming face to face with hope, with the possibility of rebirth, when you want it so much, it hurts…

But we keep at it. We keep fighting. Not me, but us, and so many mothers before us. I think of the women in Mitzrayim – what fruit did their actions bear? Children swept into the sea? And yet they forged on, no matter how grim the prospect. No matter the prognosis. Ultimately, it was with their actions that brought the geulah forth.

It’s that ability to keep going, to stay in the game, to realize that the goal may not be that which we’ve dreamed of but perhaps the fight itself. Who knows if herein may lie the seeds to our personal redemption as well…