It’s been a hard year so far; not just for us but for many people I’ve spoken to, many mothers who have been willing to be honest about the struggles in their families and friendships. 2010 has been tough for many. Communication has been fragmented, relationships strained, businesses going under, projects falling apart, faith tested. If this has been your experience this year, you are not alone.
I for one have shouldered a tremendous amount of stress this year. Relationships have been work and balance has been an astronomical feat. When one aspect of my life is thriving, three others—it seems—begin to parish. When I am making time to write regularly, my friendships are suffering, when the house is clean, Twila is bored and feels neglected, when I’m in touch with my friends and maintaining healthy relationships, my novel sits on the hard drive untouched and the laundry piles up. And so it goes, unbalanced and stressful; the beauty and joy, sporadic and fleeting.
The key, I am finding, is to hold on to the moments of beauty that are inevitable in any life; focus on them and hold on to them like a tightrope walker holds that long pole they use to balance on the thin wire that gets them to the other side. It’s a delicate and difficult balance but take comfort in knowing that we’re all in the same boat.
We keep going, through the flying weeks, and sleepless nights; not feeling like we have a grasp on the day as it sifts through our hands. This becomes the norm and we are able to move forward anyway. Changing my expectations about what life should feel like has given me the ability to cope and keep going.
Maybe life doesn’t always have to feel organized, in control. Maybe we can just do the next right thing: playing with our kids, getting dressed, going for a walk, reading a book even if the dishes aren’t done and the house is a mess. Maybe we can even have fun first, before the to-do’s. And find joy in the beauty; in the beautiful moments.
My survival in 2010 has been about stopping and staying in those moments that are so good, so beautiful; not rushing out and on like I am wont to do. I stayed on the end of the dock yesterday as the storm rolled in; the cool breeze blew off the lake, washing away mosquitoes and humidity. Big fat drops of rain fell as the dark clouds blew in: low and tumultuous. I stayed until it was too wet to stay, soaking in the peace before the storm.
To stay in the moments of peace, gives us respite from the inevitable storms, battles that this year has ushered in. Rest in the moments of quiet, smell the flowers, pick fruit and lay in the grass, stay under the covers, sleep late, share back massages with friends, hug longer, tell the truth about how you are doing, find these means of balance and hang on to them until you get to the other side.
I for one have shouldered a tremendous amount of stress this year. Relationships have been work and balance has been an astronomical feat. When one aspect of my life is thriving, three others—it seems—begin to parish. When I am making time to write regularly, my friendships are suffering, when the house is clean, Twila is bored and feels neglected, when I’m in touch with my friends and maintaining healthy relationships, my novel sits on the hard drive untouched and the laundry piles up. And so it goes, unbalanced and stressful; the beauty and joy, sporadic and fleeting.
The key, I am finding, is to hold on to the moments of beauty that are inevitable in any life; focus on them and hold on to them like a tightrope walker holds that long pole they use to balance on the thin wire that gets them to the other side. It’s a delicate and difficult balance but take comfort in knowing that we’re all in the same boat.
We keep going, through the flying weeks, and sleepless nights; not feeling like we have a grasp on the day as it sifts through our hands. This becomes the norm and we are able to move forward anyway. Changing my expectations about what life should feel like has given me the ability to cope and keep going.
Maybe life doesn’t always have to feel organized, in control. Maybe we can just do the next right thing: playing with our kids, getting dressed, going for a walk, reading a book even if the dishes aren’t done and the house is a mess. Maybe we can even have fun first, before the to-do’s. And find joy in the beauty; in the beautiful moments.
My survival in 2010 has been about stopping and staying in those moments that are so good, so beautiful; not rushing out and on like I am wont to do. I stayed on the end of the dock yesterday as the storm rolled in; the cool breeze blew off the lake, washing away mosquitoes and humidity. Big fat drops of rain fell as the dark clouds blew in: low and tumultuous. I stayed until it was too wet to stay, soaking in the peace before the storm.
To stay in the moments of peace, gives us respite from the inevitable storms, battles that this year has ushered in. Rest in the moments of quiet, smell the flowers, pick fruit and lay in the grass, stay under the covers, sleep late, share back massages with friends, hug longer, tell the truth about how you are doing, find these means of balance and hang on to them until you get to the other side.
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