I lay in bed, words swirling around in my head like the blades on the fan above me. If they go any faster, it may just fly off and crash. My mind feels like that sometimes. Sometimes my head doesn’t seem big enough to handle all of these words, thoughts, emotions swirling inside.
I find myself desperately longing for new life. A different life.
No. A different way of life.
I want to keep the people, I want to keep the good, the happy, the slow.
What I want to give up, what I need to give up is the fear, the doubt, the perfectionism that clouds my way, makes everything foggy, makes me want to crawl into a hole and hide until the sun comes back out. This is what I want to give up, what I need to do without.
I used to think that living a fulfilling life meant living a fully scheduled life. That collecting planners would make me feel like the library at 10 every Monday and gym class on Wednesdays would make us busy, important, enough.
I didn’t realize that motherhood would make me feel so empty. That, with this great new purpose I would feel not enough- by society’s standards, not my own. Funny how that can creep into your mind and all of a sudden you start second guessing yourself- am I enough? Am I doing enough? Is being “mom” enough? I know the answer- yes, always yes. But something deep inside me keeps me doubting.
There are so many changes I want to make in my life, in my family’s life. Changes that would make us healthier, happier. Changes that would leave us less stressed, with less stuff. Changes that a part of me is afraid to make. For what reasons? I don’t know, someone somewhere would judge us? We really would be happier? Healthier? I feel like I have spent so much of my life in a state of anxiety and depression, I don’t know what anything else feels like. That is scary.
I want to declutter, rid ourselves of excess stuff- clothes, toys, knick-knacks, stuff from 15 years ago we don’t use, need, or want.
I want to cook dinner every night, healthy and delicious dinners.
I want time away to write every day, or at least a few times a day. I want words to come easily, to be beautiful, to resonate.
I want to be off social media, to not care what I should be doing, what everyone else is doing, eating, drinking. I want to be free from the comparison trap, the mindless scrolling that leaves me empty, exhausted, irritable.
I want more adventure. More outside dinners. More late nights. More laughter. Less stress. Less worry. Less anger.
My word for the year was intentional. In some ways, I am being more intentional. In other ways, I am lacking and it is hurting me. I’m realizing that what hurts me hurts my family.
Maybe it’s just getting older, or maybe it’s me coming into myself a bit more, maybe it’s motherhood. I have never had this ache in my heart, this deep part of me craving change. It’s buzzing around me, trying to get my attention. I can’t ignore it anymore. I need change, but change brings up so much fear, anxiety. Even the good change, the change you know you need and want. Anything remotely different than what I deem normal scares me.
But, it’s time. It’s time to be more intentional, to take better care of myself, my family.