parenting the self

The Lost Children

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The children of the broken home – the motherless or fatherless home, the loveless home. The children born and raised without the containment of home, of family, of culture.

The uprooted children. The children of no-where, of no-land. The wandering in the desert, cradle in a basket up the river children.

The children never initiated, never trained into maturity. The grown-up children. The “adulting is hard” children. The “parenting our parents” children. The “where do we belong?” children. The “is it safe to open up and grow here?” children. The children who will do anything for love. The children with no healthy relationship to authority.

The hurting, wanting, needing children, who can twist, and take, and take. The forever hungry children. The backed into a corner children.

The children who do not know how to conduct themselves in a circle, in a culture, in a family, in love.

The children who do not know their connection, their place, their belonging with all that is.

The children digging in, reaching out to reconnect with age old chains that were broken.

The children gathering loose ends and weaving them together.

Twisting bark, warm beer and conversations in the park.

There is still time.

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I’ve had a lot of fears about being left behind, missing opportunities, not living up to my potential. I’ve worried at times that I have already failed – that I could have, should have been further along. That for some reason or another, I wasn’t living the life I had been meant to, and I couldn’t reach it or get in touch with it anymore. Like I had lost something that was supposed to be mine, and couldn’t imagine what it was, or how to get it back.

I’ve built some excellent habits around digging. Digging into these worries, these discomforts. Looking for the roots, for the pearl inside of the rigid shell. I’ve learned a lot about what had me hanging back, resisting, avoiding taking action on my feelings and dreams. I was so afraid of abandonment, and so desperate for feelings of connection that I was afraid to say or do anything that might hurt my chances of having love and acceptance.

I’ve been working a lot on these parts of my psyche, and learning a lot about tuning into myself, being aware of and establishing my boundaries, and sharing and living my truth. I still have a lot of grief around this idea of “lost time” coming up.

But I’ve had some experiences lately that have turned me toward the idea that none of that time was lost. I can imagine ways that I could lived differently if I had not had this particular collection of fears and anxieties, but that is not what happened. And I see a lot of value in the time and effort spent discovering, healing and incorporating these lost, hurt, scared parts of myself.

It can be hard not to compare ourselves to others, or not to compare where we are to where we wish we could be, or where others seem to be. But there are so many paths, so many areas in need of attention and tending in the collective psyche. We each have our own roles in this great story to work through.

And it’s not some great failing on my part to have been working through things in my own time. All of the experiences and troubles I have had are still part of the great story we are all writing together. Especially the ones that have led to healing and reintegration of parts of myself. Even the ones that have not got to that point yet.

We can have such great expectations of ourselves, of each other, of our human family. I’d like to start giving us all more credit. I’m learning a different way of moving through the world, of being in it – with balance, stability and grace. With gratitude for the ways that disparate energies and circumstances can come together to create beautiful, earth-shaking, life-changing things. New life, a new world made from each choice made, each step taken. Each observation and intention spoken aloud.

I am really proud of all of us today! For how far we have come, for all the hopes of where we’d like to go, and all the motivation and inspiration we pull from the threads around us. Thank you! Keep walking your beautiful path, just as it opens up before you. I promise that I will do the same!

Clear the Waters

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“Never trust a woman with a really clean house,” my mom likes to say, and we joke about how angry someone would have to be to scrub every inch so thoroughly.

I do like to clean up my space when I am feeling frustrated, confused, overwhelmed. Clear up my surroundings to help clear up my insides – as without, so within!

And it is easy for me to throw myself into cleaning and organizing, purging and rearranging, when I am angry. It feels almost frantic, like I need to regain control of something, I need something to be in order – and as quickly as possible.

I feel I am a mess right now. I’ve been through a lot of changes, a lot of challenge lately (many stories for many other times, probably). A lot of it is very positive! A lot of things I have worried about have been coming together. I have many things to feel good about, many things to feel very thankful for, usually I am walking around with a full heart. Overflowing, even.

But one person can only handle so much. Perhaps I have burst open a bit. Perhaps it’s hard to keep growing and evolving, to keep creating and keep moving when I am adjusting to working, having so many new demands on my time and energy.

So I’ve felt strained and distracted, easily frustrated. And my kids, too, have seemed to be stressed and a lot less patient and cooperative. My house feels like it is exploding with half finished projects and half tidied messes. Energy so scattered, so distracting, so disturbing.

I’ve been struggling with my desire to reach out almost as a way to detach. I want to give myself some grace, some reprieve, some rest – but I can’t just turn away from what has become a burning pile all around me.

I’ve decided to follow my compulsion to do some deep cleaning and decluttering, and then I plan to cleanse the energy around here with some dried herbs I was gifted by a lovely friend.

I started going through the kids’ toys the other day, with a donate box and a garbage bag, expecting that I was going to ruthlessly cut a chunk out of their abundant bits and pieces that spill out all over the house.

I did do some cleaning, find a few things to go, got some of it organized and put away, but it had very little effect. I get stuck on their toys, now. I have decluttered them so very many times. There are so many playsets that they actually use and appreciate.

In the end, I stashed a bit more things away. We happen to have a crawl space that I can hide things in, in previous houses I would stack boxes up in closets. At least, not having all their things accessible at once limits the amount of mess that can happen at once time.

I have stuck away more toys three times in the last few months, now I do feel like I can see the difference. Whether it will change the amount of mess, only time will tell.

I’m reminding myself that clearing space takes time. I am following through with this urge, though, and honoring Imbolc in this way – I am spring cleaning! Snow be damned! I am clearing space so we can grow!

As a gesture of self care, I have cleaned under my fridge and my stove today. I spent a fair amount of time this afternoon putting things back in place, and wiping some areas I don’t usually get to.

I still feel on edge a bit more than I would like.

I still feel some uncertainty about what I need most from myself right now, and how I can accomplish more regular maintenance on myself than crisis management when I burn out.

But, I have taken a step! I am doing what I can, taking more responsibility for my space and working on getting my kids to take more responsibility for themselves, as well.

I will update again as things progress!

Thanks all, please feel free to share your own adventures in deep cleaning and/or stress release!

The Value of Inner-Child Work

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As I have been a mother to my children,

I’ve been mothering myself.

As they grow and change and change again,

I’m changing shape as well.

 

There have been times that I’ve resisted,

That I’ve fought against the flow.

There were times that I could not hang on,

Times that I could not let go…

 

Through all of this exploring,

And the challenges and growth,

I’ve felt I was missing something

To help with keeping me afloat.

 

As I have found my inner child

And all the fears she keeps

I’ve done my best to tend to her

Healing whatever I could reach.

 

But even making space for her,

And trying to bridge that gap

Left me feeling a little stuck,

Like I was still holding something back.

 

And I guess that the time must have been right,

Maybe I could not have done it before,

But something has clicked into place

And now I see what I’ve been yearning for.

 

It is well and good to help that child

Living deep inside of me,

But to my surprise I’ve found, instead,

It is she who is saving me!

 

For as I became an adult,

And as I had my own kids too,

I left behind something important,

That’s kept me from living my truth.

 

All the striving to comfort and soothe myself,

And to be the best parent I can,

I had forgotten how to play! Have fun!

To be wild, full of wonder, joy in hand!

 

Now I see the secret ingredient here

To the mix that I’ve struggled to brew

I need to remember to do what I love

And to love what I have to do, too.

 

All the roles that I play these days,

All the different aspects I can be,

They all jumble together in a beautiful mess

When I remember to be wild, and playful and me.

The Rut

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Just after my dad died, I was out for a smoke and started walking a sort of labyrinth pattern into the snow, making a path in a spiral and back out through the center again. I walked it over and over and ended up taking a shovel and digging it deep into the snow, and it became a place for my daughter to run around and play. But I would pace around it when I went out for smokes by myself all the time.

We made it outside today! After being reminded by a few people, I finally remembered to actually make use of my wrap and the baby slept while I was wearing her, when I couldn’t have otherwise put her down… Derp. So she stayed sleeping while I helped the girls get dressed and took them outside. And while we walked a circle into the snow, and started pushing the snow around to shape the beginning of walls because they wanted to make a snow fort.

She stayed sleeping while we came inside, while I made them lunch and cleaned up lots of our main living area. I got so much done!

We had a lot of company today. My mom came to visit, and some friends with their kids. The girls got so much attention and got to play, and I got to catch up a bit and have some company, and someone around to hold the baby and help her stay sleeping.

It was a little hectic but so nice, and most of the mess we made was clean (cleaned by my friends son mostly!) by the time everyone left.

But as soon as everyone had gone, and the sun began to set, it was mayhem all over again, just like last night. I guess I expected it this time, but I didn’t handle it very well.

My baby started fussing instead of just nursing and sleeping, and my toddler dumped all of our vanilla extract out on the counter.

Then she spilled yogurt drink all over herself, then after I cleaned her up she spilled more on the couch and on the floor.

And after I had cleaned that up (while the fussy baby is crying, waiting for me) my toddler wandered off without her pull up since she’d slipped it off with her yogurt splattered pants.

She snatched a toy from her big sister enough times that my oldest freaked out so much that she hit herself in the head with a little mirror somehow. And shrieked in my ear, while the baby was still fussing.

And a little while later the toddler came back to let me know that she pooped in the other room.

So again, I had to leave the fussy baby crying out to clean her up. And there were bits of poop across the floor. I yelled at her to not clean it up herself, multiple times, because I didn’t feel like I could get to it and she kept trying to go towards it with some wipes… Ugh.

So somehow after all of that we all managed to calm down. I didn’t manage to get supper started, but the poop got cleaned up, and I picked up all the clothes we’d been looking through earlier.

We had a sort of lazy supper when Drew got home and took the girls outside a bit longer afterwards, so at least we all got some air and they got a bit more exercise and space to play.

Bedtime is late again here but the girls helped us clean up toys and things this evening and they’ve been quiet and calm as they settled down.

I’m thinking about help, feeling provided for. Part of me still feels like I should be doing more now, exchanging directly, giving more back. But I am so grateful to everyone that listens to me, reassures me, everyone who has brought me things, taken me places, come over and tried to help me manage the house, and sent needful things from afar.

It feels nice to know so much is taken care of when I can’t stay on top of everything myself, or between Drew and I. It still feels strange though, lots of questions of deserving are coming up for me. I feel pretty loved anyway… I still feel anxious and get mad at times, sunset especially apparently, but I feel like I can actually enjoy our little family and the people we know and love more again. I don’t feel so stuck in my ruts.

DON’T PANIC

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I had written here previously that I wondered what this newest child would teach me. Well so far, it’s been how to ask for and accept help.

We had a bit of struggles adjusting to life at home with our newest addition – colds all around, trouble figuring out sleep for everyone, keeping things clean. But it was overall going well, better than I expected.

But then right when Drew had to go back to work, after his two weeks off, I started to panic.

Initially it was a health concern I got really intensely focused on. I started to panic about that and was worried about it all day the first day home with the kids by myself.

And later that evening I was still feeling physical panic attack symptoms even after I wasn’t worrying so much anymore.

At some point I gathered that I was experiencing postpartum anxiety. I managed to reach out to some friends and family I could really trust and talked to Drew a lot, and after a couple of days I went to talk to my OB about it at my two week check up.

She went ahead and wrote me a prescription for an antidepressant for the anxiety, without me having to make much of a case for myself.

I felt loads better just after talking to her about it. So I’ve been taking these meds for about a week now. No negative side effects so far, no panic but still having some anxieties, odd depressive symptoms, bouts of frustration that I’ve come to realize are usually a reaction to anxieties and fears of not having control.

So now I’m looking at my whole life like I need to rearrange it, make it something I don’t so desperately need to have breaks from or escape from. How I can really take care of myself regularly, instead of in urgently needed stolen moments. How I can get to feel more supported again, and build more supports for my kids besides just Drew and I.

And as I look back I think I experienced this after both my other kids too, but not quite so intensely. I can see now how the pressure built up. Uncertainties and fears, trying to keep things under my control as much as possible, blossoming into frustration and anger when I just couldn’t keep things under control (as my middle wild-child has been breaking me open in her own way).

I’m looking at my whole life through this lens and realizing that a lot of my trouble probably has had anxiety behind it. Or depression. Maybe both, it’s hard to me to draw a line right now.

So, since starting the medication I have felt a lot better than I did when the panic first hit. But I still have my moments. And this afternoon was one of them, and after the struggle of it passed I decided I really wanted to write about it. It’s harder now that my head is not in that place, but I want to try as it seems important.

So, the light starts to fade here pretty early these wintery days. The living room was slowly getting dimmer as it only really gets light when the sun shines through the windows.

The kids were starting to get more antsy, whiny, uncooperative, loud etc as children can tend to do in the time of dinner prepping.

The baby has been extra fussy for a few days, presumably having a growth spurt, and needing to be held and nursed very often. So I felt like I was quite glued to her for most of the day.

So within the frame of about an hour, here are some of the things I experienced:

The toddler pooped in her pull up but wouldn’t let me change her for a long time. But started asking me to when the baby had woken up again, when I really couldn’t get to it, and was not sure when I would be able to.

I noticed what looked to be mold all around the bottom edge of the living room windows, because they’ve been getting so much condensation or something… The wood on the window bench looks to be rotting around the edges. And I thought I should really clean that off, and started but had to stop and wash my hands and pick up the baby again, because she had woken and started crying again.

I had to wipe up splattered yogurt drink that went across the room when the toddler put some marker lids in the bottle, then tried to shake them out. The same marker lids I’ve been struggling to put back on the markers all day so the markers don’t dry out, because they’ve been keeping the kids busy.

My oldest kept asking for snacks but not telling me what she wanted except for things she couldn’t have, and often when I couldn’t easily get up to grab her anything because I was trying to get the baby to stop crying or trying to get her back to sleep. When not immediately satisfied, my oldest has taken to making great loud screeching noises as of late.

I had to leave the baby crying in her bassinet for a couple minutes to sweep up some glass off the kitchen floor, after I jumped up and ran in after hearing a smash to pluck my toddler from the glassy terrain as she had just dropped a small Pyrex bowl on the hard floor and was about to step on a big piece when I came in the room.

I wondered about supper, wondering how many days one can realistically buy supper, at what time I might be able to start cooking supper, or if I would ever be able to conceive of cooking supper at a decent time again…

 

And this time of day is one that I know to be tricky. It’s not exactly surprising to me that it might be a struggle.

But for some reason it just really got to me today. I’ve been having more friends and family come by to help and to visit, and it makes me feel so much better and makes some things easier. But I dread this time of day now. I think that’s the time when the panic really set in on that first day home alone. And that’s a time I really don’t want to be alone, but everyone who might be able to help me through that is either working or starting to make dinner for their own kids.

And that really bothered me too for some reason, that in these isolated homes we can end up so separate at a time that would probably go so much more smoothly with more people around to share the tasks or guide the children through.

So I sent a big rant to my mom, and among the things she said, she mentioned my baby carrier. A friend mentioned it earlier too… So i brought it out and tied it on myself, ready to go… But the baby kept sleeping in her bassinet anyway.

I managed to start cooking supper. Lit some candles in the dark and dreary living room – only having to relight what the toddler blew out a few times.

I did get the toddlers pull up changed. And I ended up wearing the baby while we ate supper, which did get finished at a half decent time.

And I did manage to finish cleaning the window ledges – not spotless but sprayed and wiped in a way that seemed sufficient for now.

And the girls settled down eventually. Not an early bedtime tonight,  but not a huge struggle.

And here I am with a baby sleeping on my chest with a bit of time to sit and write.

So… I guess the hard times still pass. I feel like I can only look at one day at a time right now. There’s so many things I want to work on. So much routine and rhythm I still want to build. And I’m not sure how much of that is important, how much of it is just a hopeless struggle for control…

 

But, we made it through this day. Drew and I got to catch up with each other ever so slightly,  but in a needed way, I got to visit with a great friend and our kids got to play, and the girls actually played very well together most of the day, and entertained themselves very well. I didn’t have the TV on as much, so when it was on it was like a novelty again. The house is not spotless but isn’t a complete disaster, I found a bit of time to clean up some of the many toys scattered around…

I guess that’s all I have to share for now, perhaps I’ll have more structured and purposeful tales to share next time. There is just so much that wants to come out!

Out of Control

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So, I’m about 37 and a half weeks pregnant. Third child… So this is not completely new to me, but since I first learned I was pregnant I’ve been worried about stacking more and more on top of the struggles I’m still having in adjustment to becoming a parent to each of my first two children.

I have learned a lot. So much. And that list is growing all the time, still. My first opened up a lot of lessons about trust – in myself, in her, in the world around us. My second has compounded that with lessons in patience. Both of them together teach me so much about surrender and initiative, communication and support.

And there is still so much I don’t know, so much I don’t have figured out. And I expect that is the way it is meant to be,  in parenting and in life. It just seems the lessons and the challenges come packed so much closer together in the early childhood years, with so much on the line and so little time to adapt.

But I have grown a lot, too. I think the greatest thing I’ve noticed lately is that I am growing into the uncertainty and lack of control that I must allow at times. And I don’t welcome it very often still, but I’m learning to recognize that it’s unavoidable, and I’m learning more about all the parts of myself that still want to resist. And one at a time or sometimes in many ways at once I am learning to heal, to tame and to teach those parts how to deal.

But here I am, nearing the end of my third pregnancy. Thought I had finally reached the plateau after a long climb towards discipline in routines and housekeeping, clearing space so that I could do the work required each day to keep from drowning under half finished chores, neglected personal projects and plentiful requests for help and attention.

But now I’m tired. And just today, I feel my body has stretched past it’s threshold for this extra weight and the work I was trying to do with it. And my back is starting to hurt, and my legs and my feet have been so stiff and my body doesn’t want to do the work anymore.

And this could mean that labor is imminent.  I feared it was coming last week, but I’ve been hoping for it any day now. Or it could mean that I have a few weeks to spend not being able to bend over to pick up the toys and the clutter, or load the dishwasher, or pick up little bodies wanting to feel close…

And if that is the case, I’ll be in for many days of watching rather helplessly as all the work I’ve put in to make my house feel tidy enough for my mental well being is undone. Watching things pile up again, falling behind after finally crawling out of that place of feeling like I was perpetually catching up, but never quite getting there.

And there is something poetic about that for me, that as I grew more worried about how I was going to physically keep up with the tangible work that needed to be done, that I will be forced to surrender to complete inaction and just have to deal with it that way. That makes sense. I know that’s one way that I can be forced to make peace when I’ve been fighting with myself.

But it doesn’t seem fair, at all. Because I do think I was stressing just a bit too much, but I’ve really needed the discipline and the results that I was pushing for. I really needed to know that I could keep things up. I really needed that much clear space and order to make myself feel like I could handle this, like I am indeed cut out for the life that I have taken on.

I really need the energy and drive to get my kids to bed at a decent time when I start to burn out at the end of the day. I really need to know that I can have some time to reconnect and decompress at the end of the day, without staying up into the wee hours of the morning and wearing myself down.

I really need the ability and the will to finish things that I start, to clear things up when I am done with them to avoid intimidating, stress triggering piles of “how will I ever get through that?” so I don’t have to worry so much about the necessary messes of play and of life.

And I really need the patience and the presence of mind to clear up the extra at the end of the day so we can have a fresh start each morning. To notice what is working and what isn’t so I can respond accordingly and keep everyone’s needs met and everyone feeling taken care of and loved.

I didn’t really know how to achieve all of that without pushing so hard.

And all the things I now suspect I am being asked to let go of, are all things I thought were really important to help me get through this next challenge of keeping on top of everything I was before with yet another little person in the mix.

And it just doesn’t seem fair.

And now I wonder just what lessons this little one will lead me to, as I think of all I’ve learned and worked on in preparation for her arrival already.

This next part might be very hard, before she even comes. Her early days might be a relief or they might be the thing that breaks me right down. I’m not so sure those hard breaks are such a bad thing, now…

Because apparently I don’t really know yet how to pace myself, when to let go and how to prioritize. I know I’ve made leaps and bounds with that just recently, but…

Here I am now, very pregnant, tired and sore and feeling quite helpless and frustrated. And life just goes along anyway. Somehow we eat and play and fight and make up and love and go to sleep anyway.

I guess I can relax into that for now, but I really hope that I have truly learned from the work I’ve been recently practicing, and that it won’t be that hard to pick up again once my body and my mind have recovered.

And I hope that letting things spiral just a little out of control in the meantime won’t make me feel like a failure anymore.

Grace

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Studying the magic of compassion,

I grant myself grace

And I keep all of my worries

In a secret hiding place

But sometimes, they build up a bit too much

And I must sort through

And weigh each mix of feelings

And sift out illusion from the truth.

I’ve been parenting myself so much,

My kids can benefit, too.

I’ve mastered cleaning up after myself,

But still there’s more to do.

I’m trying to stay aware of what’s most pressing,

Make the most of time,

And trust that my best is enough

To sail through snags and come out fine.

And I have found some new success

With things I once did struggle with,

But still a fear clings deep inside

That if I stumble or I slip,

Or if I rest a bit too long

Or cut myself too much slack,

That all I’ve built will tumble down

And knock me off my fresh laid track.

And it’s easy to feel lonely, now,

Or like I haven’t time for much,

But I feel a growing urge deep down

To soothe myself and keep in touch.

So much pressure I’ve applied,

Such a fire I’ve lit under me,

I’m not sure what will be left

If I’m not pushing myself forcefully.

But I’ve been studying compassion,

And I grant myself grace.

And I’ve completed much already,

And this was never meant to be a race.

Mabon 2017

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I’ve spent a lot of time feeling like I was catching up with myself, and I feel so much closer now, like I have it at times.

But it still takes a big push here and there, and periods of climbing and climbing, balancing, juggling. Layering each accomplishment on top of another there and trying not to let them all fall, because the work I am doing now is training new habits, new routines, new rituals.

I’ve never accomplished much with spring cleaning. Sometimes I feel the urge a bit, but after a long winter, when the air grows warm and I can see green again I just want to go outside and play.

But the fall is another story.

Before I settle in for winter I do a lot of space clearing, in preparation for being nestled in with nowhere else to go for months and months.

Now on Mabon, on this Autumn Equinox, I am seven months pregnant, in the thick of a magical undertaking and some personal transformations, and I am following the seasons so much more closely.

And leading up to this day I’ve spent a lot of time and energy pushing to get to the bottom of the clutter in the house. Pushing to get to the bottom of my reluctance to wash the dishes and fold the clothes. Pushing to find my balance between time and space for myself and serving the people I love, and myself, with actions of home making full of care and attention.

I’ve gotten so much done, compared to the mayhem that used to creep in whenever I let my guard down months, years past, I now feel like I do not have much more catching up to do. I can maintain while I finish the last little details. And I really feel like I can keep it up this time.

But I am so tired. So worn down, I’ve worked so hard. And while I appreciate the result of my efforts in the state of my home at least, on this day of thankfulness I found myself feeling a lot of lack that surprised me.

I realize I have not tended my friendships like I used to, perhaps before I had kids, and I have difficulty now reaching out to others when I need them, or having them serendipitously show up at the right time. It’s a bit like we’re all a little distracted by our own whirlwinds.

And I haven’t been the most patient, the most encouraging with my kids lately, pushing them to just fall in line with what is easier for me, and I felt the fallout from that today, too.

I was so excited to celebrate my own harvest, to share the merriment with my family and friends. But I noticed a lot of what I didn’t do instead.

And I suppose along with counting my blessings, which I still intend to do as I think it is so important and I know they are many, I need to listen to all that is creeping out of my shadows to be heard. As the days grow shorter than the nights from here on, I need to work with the hidden and hurt parts of myself, my fears and my failures, just as much as I need to bask in my achievements and the luck I’ve had.

So that’s my wish for myself tonight, and for you too should you want it – that we may find the balance between the pleasures and the pain in our lives. That we may see the value in the challenges and mistakes as well as in the success and the comforts. That we may recognize and accept both sides as they appear to us, without undue judgement or avoidance.

I wish that we may be open to the wonder that is there for us to enjoy, and that we be open to experiencing our sorrows as well, without getting stuck there.

I wish you all the best as you turn into your own cozy dens of winter, and I so look forward to emerging refreshed and inspired once again in the spring.

Blessed be!

To Bend or Break: a Pause

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Greetings to you strange friends and friendly strangers! I took a bit of a break from my decluttering extravaganza. I spent some days catching up on other things that needed my attention and tried to include myself in that!

I feel like I have been through a bit of a whirlwind. Time is passing quickly. I still sometimes feel like I have so far to go, so much to do, but I can see more tangibly now what I have accomplished in even a short time lately, and that feels so good.

We’ve been working on establishing a bona fide bedtime routine, and we’re not quite at the sleep time I would most appreciate, but it is so much better than it was and still seems to be shifting earlier, ever so slowly. Without much strain I guess, now that the kids are usually asleep before I get too burnt out.

There are times when I decide something is really important and I just put all of my energy into it, even when it doesn’t come naturally or when it seems like a big effort. I just give it everything I have and try to make it happen. Go through the motions and strain myself to get as close to the mark as I can. And when I’m doing that and I experience any set back, any delay or any complication, it feels so awful.

And I’ve had some nights lately where I sat in the dark for over an hour waiting for a child to stop squirming and fall asleep. Nights when I didn’t want to read any stories by the time we started. Nights where I didn’t want to nurse at all, but tried to offer it as long as I could possibly stand to buy an easier transition into sleep, to be able to walk away a little sooner. Nights where I was hoping to catch up on the dishes, on my studies, on some quiet project or another after the kids were asleep, but found myself so exhausted by that time that I couldn’t do anything meaningful at all.

It’s part of that perpetual cycle I find myself in, always feeling like I am catching up or making up for something, never quite finished. Wanting to focus on one thing at a time, but feeling unable to prioritize. Because when I am going through clothes to donate, the dishes pile up. When I’m cleaning up the kitchen, toys and books are getting dumped out. When I’m cleaning up the play areas, a wall somewhere is getting colored on. When I’m working away at something stained or broken, the kids get too hungry and start fighting. When I’m making lunch, they want my attention. When they have my attention, the laundry piles up.

And there is this dance to it all, sometimes I’m paying attention to what is right in front of me and I take the right steps, things fall into place as well as they can and things are taken care of in time.

But sometimes, often really, the scope of it all is so overwhelming that I try to force things at the wrong time, or just can’t get moving on anything at all.

Management of our entire household is so full of details and nuances. I’ve been thinking a lot about the mental load of it lately. All that invisible work of noticing, analyzing, organizing, preparing, delegating. And there is so much to keep track of.

I haven’t felt particularly talented when it comes to rhythm and structure and getting chores done. I seem to have a lot of trouble finding the right way to schedule things for myself so there is time for everything. And I’ve largely been making up for this deficit I feel by focusing more and more on simplifying our lives. Trying to have less things, less demands so it is easier to get to the bottoms of every pile.

But the funny thing about simplifying, that is a task, too. That can be a chore. That can be a whole category of chores. A new set of tasks to check off, projects to manage.

This time around, as I’m decluttering I have noticed more regular tasks falling to the wayside and a bit of mess piling up. But it hasn’t been as bad as I might have feared. I do feel now that I am starting to see some actual space cleared, some actual relief of needless tension, and the feeling of being a little closer to being caught up with myself.

In taking a few days here to get some other cleaning done, I’m actually starting to feel happy and content about my house, my life again.

And with a trip planned this weekend, I’m not sure how fast I’ll get through the rest of the decluttering challenges. But I’ve made a big push and I can see that we are moving! I should be able to keep this all up over this next month as things slow down a bit for us again.

I do have another area half done to post soon upon completion! But I don’t feel like I need to pressure myself to push, push, push until all those rocks are over the mountain anymore. I have a lot more faith now that we can take care of everything in time! And that is such a relief.

I hope you are all well and feeling capable and comfortable out there! At least some of the time!