Lately I have been feeling generally happy. I feel pretty calm. I have a good handle on my kids’s schedules, laundry occasionally gets done, and hey, I even make dinner a few times a week. I am not so stressed about my kids crazy screaming matches or messy rooms.
Well, except for tonight. They were especially energetic and loud.
But overall I am content.
This is not normal for me. I’d say I’m typically anxious about at least one thing. Am I teaching my kids to be hard workers, kind and spiritual? How is my marriage doing? How clean is the mail pile on my counters? Did I lose that bill? Will I ever find all the missing socks? Will I ever get all the laundry done in one week? Why am I so selfish with my time? Why don’t I serve more? Why didn’t I write a killer song today? Why didn’t I follow through on that inspired thought to text that friend? Am I eating healthy enough for my growing baby? Did my kids practice piano today (or this week)? Does my home feel welcoming? Is there milk in the fridge? Am I listening for the still small Voice???
So many feelings of guilt, fear, doubt, insecurity.
But not lately. Lately I’ve been as chill as a cucumber. And I’ve been trying to figure out why. And is this bad or good?
Of course the gut reaction is to say, of course it’s good to feel good. And the logical part of my brain agrees with that. So why do I fret and worry so much of the time?
I realized that I use guilt to motivate myself a lot. The worry and fear build up until I just have to clean that floor because obviously, everyone else is staying top of everything. Everyone but me, right? And everyone else makes a home lunch every day, and everyone else never leaves toys out overnight. To look good to everyone else, I must try to tread water and keep up.
But lately I have been thinking a lot about my family and myself and the concept of real love. If I take care of my family and home and self in a way that references my perception of other people, that is an ever-shifting perfection I can’t reach. And it’s not about love for my family or myself. It’s about pride and perfectionism.
So I decided to think a little more each day as I do the exact same chores. To be present, and not let my mind fret. To think about my day, and plan it, and do it from a perspective of caring and control, rather than guilt and comparison.
I am not a perfect homemaker. I have a pile of laundry right now on my floor that needs to be folded. But I am OK with it. I am giving more of myself to my family and making conscious decisions.
Part of is scares me. Will I be lulled into a false sense of security? If I feel happy, does that make me stop growing? Will the push to create and learn go away? I sure hope not. Because I like feeling like this. “It’s okay to be happy. It’s okay to let go of fears that won’t let you know, it’s okay to be happy.”
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