Letting Go is HARD WORK
The kids and I went to church today, it was terrific. Coming home, my husband had a super fun way to get the kids to tidy up. He collected all the loose items from around the house into a large bag, and then spread out a blanket on the floor, and placed the items out for a 'garage sale'. Since the kids don't have actual money, they had to do a job to earn 'daddy bucks (a piece of paper with a smiley face on it)', and then had to spend one 'daddy buck' per item they wanted to buy back. We had to quickly enforce the rule of "buy your own items, not someone else's", but overall, it went well. They cleaned up, as well as putting away all the stray items.
I should have left it there, but I tried to continue the party by getting them to help cull the stuffed toys. We have so many, and they're all allergic to dust mites, so keeping them all is like feeding my nut allergic girls a cashew.
They were sick of working and not interested in getting rid of anything. I quickly got sick of hearing my own voice, because they weren't listening at all.
Then someone was mucking around, and a glass jar got broken, and I had to stop and clean it up.
Then the kids wanted to play outside - no, inside - no, outside, leaving the door open each time like we live in Narnia, and the door ceases to exist when one goes through it. I'm trying to let things go, trying to relax - but it is so hard when I'm so...aware of every single thing.
I hear every single noise, feel every stray hair, my facial nerves are firing because of nerve damage from shingles, and unless I'm asleep, I find it extremely difficult to switch off to anything. I see all the things out of place, and it is physically irritating. I feel as though I'm being squeezed from all directions, and the panic begins to rise.
So I stopped, chose to chop off a significant portion of the tasks I had hoped to finish today, and took the time to sit down to write. Writing, word-vomit, whatever you wish to call it - this space where I share my thoughts, it has become an integral part of my healing.
I realised today something I'd never considered. Someone did something very kind today, and though I didn't get a chance to thank her, I realised my intended response to her kindness was rather deep and meaningful for someone I don't know all that well. It is how I am wired. It's how I write, how I share my life. I feel deeply, think deeply, and love deeply. No wonder someone thinks I'm intense!
There is so much to do, and even though I can see it all, feel it all - I am working very hard to ignore that which can be ignored, and focus on what is most important.
XO, Sarah
I should have left it there, but I tried to continue the party by getting them to help cull the stuffed toys. We have so many, and they're all allergic to dust mites, so keeping them all is like feeding my nut allergic girls a cashew.
They were sick of working and not interested in getting rid of anything. I quickly got sick of hearing my own voice, because they weren't listening at all.
Then someone was mucking around, and a glass jar got broken, and I had to stop and clean it up.
Then the kids wanted to play outside - no, inside - no, outside, leaving the door open each time like we live in Narnia, and the door ceases to exist when one goes through it. I'm trying to let things go, trying to relax - but it is so hard when I'm so...aware of every single thing.
I hear every single noise, feel every stray hair, my facial nerves are firing because of nerve damage from shingles, and unless I'm asleep, I find it extremely difficult to switch off to anything. I see all the things out of place, and it is physically irritating. I feel as though I'm being squeezed from all directions, and the panic begins to rise.
So I stopped, chose to chop off a significant portion of the tasks I had hoped to finish today, and took the time to sit down to write. Writing, word-vomit, whatever you wish to call it - this space where I share my thoughts, it has become an integral part of my healing.
I realised today something I'd never considered. Someone did something very kind today, and though I didn't get a chance to thank her, I realised my intended response to her kindness was rather deep and meaningful for someone I don't know all that well. It is how I am wired. It's how I write, how I share my life. I feel deeply, think deeply, and love deeply. No wonder someone thinks I'm intense!
There is so much to do, and even though I can see it all, feel it all - I am working very hard to ignore that which can be ignored, and focus on what is most important.
XO, Sarah
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