Last night two friends were caught in a flash flood as they were driving home. It was dark, and hard to see, and the road was wet from rain. Then they suddenly hit water. Just as quickly their vehicle was swept into the current. When it came to a stop, their SUV was at a tilt, and the driver couldn’t open his door. Water was coming in, and they had to escape and wade through the thigh-deep water to higher ground.

I’ve thought about this all day because it sounds terrifying, but also because I was thankful for them that they were together. My friend was scared, but she wasn’t alone. The situation was frightening, but they figured  out a plan of action together.

Last night’s flash-flood scenario feels a whole lot like my life, except I am driving alone. I’m afraid, but there’s no one with me, and I am being constantly swept away on a torrent of issues I have to figure out on my own.

Single parenting is a brutal endeavor, and maybe especially the kind of single parenting that I am doing—the kind where there isn’t another parent in another house, the kind where the other parent has abdicated all responsibility. Sick kids, struggling kids, kids who won’t go to therapy, kids making major life decisions or not making major life decisions: it’s all on my plate, and there’s no one else at the table.

My mind is constantly swamped with thoughts about my boys—the things going on with them and the things not going on with them. I can’t stop thinking about how to handle things, or whether I should let things go, or wondering which things to let go. I can’t keep track of all my responsibilities (the endless daily tasks along with the ones that present themselves fresh each week: the broken things, the car maintenance, the lost items). And let’s not forget the clients to keep happy, and the need to find new ones to try to make this ship float. In the midst of all this, my fractured mind is gathering details for a novel, and trying to find words for a poem. My mind feels like its own flash flood.

The only solace is outdoors. The rush of wind in my ears, the endless breaking of waves on the shore, the tree frogs enlivening the dark of night. Only the outside can break through the storm of my thoughts and fears, and speak peace into my heart.