It’s time to be real. To pull back the masks and write about life. Reality.
That sometimes it’s hard.
You know, those days, right? Or weeks? Or months? Those times when it feels as if you’re racing and yet your legs are burning and the finish line isn’t even visible?
That’s where I am now. Not all the time, but I’ve been struggling with overwhelm. Too much to do. Perfectionism. That desire to have things “just perfect” creates discontent. Plain and simple. If the house isn’t how I want it, then somehow I’ve given myself selfish permission to be crabby — snippy — short-tempered. Instead of working with joy entitlement slowly crept into my demeanor.
What to do?
I’m trying to find the balance — the tension in joy.
So I keep on trying to praise, to be thankful. I’m not perfect, not at all. I’ve got my moments where the overwhelm of daily life tries to pin me down. So beyond praising I’ve had to fight. I’ve had to fight myself, my selfish desires, and view life from a global picture. And to honestly realize that it will be hard. Sometimes I feed myself these lies that everything can be just easy if I had this, or my house looked liked this, or simply because I deserved it. Nope. Being a mom and a wife is work. Hard work.
I’ve been thinking only of me.
And all that me think makes me fall over. Tumbling.
So today, I will pick myself up, and start again.
and grant me a willing spirit, to sustain me.