Shifting

I’m pretty sure every time I start to write I talk about how I’ve been thinking about writing something for ages. But then, how am I supposed to actually find time to sit and write? The demands of motherhood seem never to end. 

Right now I am wearing my shoes in my kitchen because I know I need to sweep again, there are still dishes to put away and dishes to be done. There are things that need to be brought in from the van after a busy morning at our Co-Op and clothes that I know need to be folded. The kids, mercifully, are all actually taking quiet time in their rooms, something that has been a struggle since we shifted Ana into her room with Ellie and Dean to his very own big boy room. My house, dare I say it, is quiet. I hear the hum of our heat and noises from outside on the street. 

I started Therapy in January. I didn’t realize how much of it would be stopping to actually realize how my body feels in these overwhelming moments. As I sit here my shoulders feel relaxed and I’m not tense, not even in my jaw. I have realized my need to release tension over the past month. Easier said than done…

There was such a shifting after Blair and I got sick with Covid in January. The isolation and desperate need I felt grew to be more than I could handle and I was overwhelmed all the time. suddenly the grief and emotions I have carried with me for the past six years bubbled out. I was angry. I was exhausted. I was the worst version of myself I think I’ve ever been and I could see the way it was hurting my kids and my husband. 

So I did something about it. 

I refused to stay in that place of despair and brokenness. I refused to let my mind wander more than it already had. I knew I needed help sorting out the mess in my mind and I didn’t want to wait until my kids were older to do it. Once a week I have a Telehealth appointment with my therapist while Blair wrangles all the kids. It is not a break. It is work. Important work. And it is hard. 

Often I will talk about things that have come up and she will stop me and ask me WHY I felt that way, or WHY I reacted a certain way. And because I can’t get out of it, I stop and think about it. More has surfaced than I thought possible. Therapy is wild like that. 

Slowly I feel like I’m starting to come up for air after years and years of medical trauma, grief, death, and showing up when all I wanted was to hide. We talk about my Dad, we talk about John, we talk about Daisy and how much I struggle/still struggle because four kids was not part of *my* plan. Sometimes I cry. Sometimes she asks me to just stop and breathe. One time just doing that made me feel panicky and I had to stop. 

This shift feels important to note. 2022. The year I stop saying “ill get to this” and I *actually* get to it, the year we finally get fed up with debts and commit to being debt free and sticking to a budget. The year Blair and I commit to one another and really work hard to communicate and pray together. The year I stop saying “next year” or “when the kids are older”. 

I want to remember. I want to remember the way Anas nose crinkles when she smiles at me. The way Daisy is learning to eat and makes small demanding noises for more. The way she lights up when she sees Ellie or Blair. The way Dean has started to really learn to control his emotions and how hard that is for my sweet boy. Or the way Ellie has found ways to connect to me and asks for things to do, just me and her, and how good it feels to have time with just each kid, one on one. I love seeing them grow and learn, no matter how challenging and hard it is, and it is, challenging and hard more often than not. 

As I feel the seasons shift and I wait anxiously to welcome Spring, I feel the lightness of it, for the first time in years. I’m not waiting to birth a baby. I’m not waiting for a surgery. I’m not waiting on a house to sell. I’m not in crisis. I’m not in turmoil. Most of my people are relatively safe and healthy and those who are not I am able to face it without panic and fear. I don’t cringe when I go past Winchester Medical Center anymore, I don’t panic when I hear a helicopter. I am finding a rhythm to my days and weeks. Mondays we do school and catch up on housework. Daisy takes consistent naps. Tuesdays are Library days. Thursdays are for co-op. Friday is pizza and movie nights. Saturday mornings are for family. Sundays are for AWANA and Church. 

The worlds chaos is there in the fringes, I know what is happening, it is impossible to not know. I allow myself to feel it all and then I put it back in a book on a shelf where I can see it and read it when I need to, without trying to hide or shove it down. My small slice of World, for now, is embracing these new shifts and welcoming in the changes I see in myself and my kids. It will help me be a better mother, wife, and friend. 

I find myself more and more in awe and thankful for each day is it comes. Nothing negates the hard, life will always be hard. It will always be demanding. I will always want to give more of me than I have and I will always need people who help me check that when it comes at the cost of my husband and kids. 

My Dad always told us, family first. 

This particular season embraces and embodies that wholeheartedly and I am just sitting on a Thursday afternoon, in my random bit of delicious quietness, thankful for that advice.