I used to wake each morning ready to go at 5 a.m. I would kiss my husband goodbye, take my shower and then move through my routine like a professional mother and wife. Everyone up. Check. Everyone dressed. Check. Breakfast cooked and served. Check. Lunches packed. Check. Everyone has what they need for the day. Check. Load of laundry done. Check. Dishes done. Check. Coffee. Check. Let’s do this.
Lately I’ve been hitting the snooze button until I’m in panic mode. Rush around. Check. Yell at the kids. Check. Forget all kinds of shit. Check.
The responsibilities of life are the same. I have not started a new job. I did not have another baby. I’m not taking college courses. Nope. Things are the same as they have been for years. Everything is the same. Except for me. I’m different. I’m broken and doing everything wrong
I can barely keep groceries in the house. My yard has not been mowed in over a month. The kids haven’t been to karate in several months. I’m forgetting to call friends. I am not volunteering at the school much because I don’t want to.
So what AM I doing?
The answer is something I’m just now ready to admit.
I’m healing.The author is a blogger whose emotional honesty I really admire, as in this post, and this one. I also admire her courage to write about such personal things under her own name, while I am not ready to do that yet.
The transformation she describes from uber-efficient supermom to procrastinating slacker is one I can really relate to. I used to bound out of bed before the sun rose, too, and now I hit the snooze alarm more often than not, telling myself it'll be just one more cup of coffee and ten more minutes and then I'll get up, but somehow it's two and twenty, or three and thirty, or….you get the idea.
So what is she doing? Healing. And -- kudos to her -- giving herself permission to slack off some while she heals. I admire that. I wish I could do that. I try, and once in a while I manage it, but more often than not, my perfectionism rears its ugly head. But it's not just me. The blogger I've quoted, practically in the same breath where she gives herself permission to heal, writes, "I’m broken and doing everything wrong."
The fact is, we are all broken, and we all do a lot of things "wrong" -- that negative judgment in quotes because even when we do things in ways others would consider acceptable, or even commendable, to us it still so very often feels wrong.
The title of this post is a paraphrase of Brene Brown's book, I Thought It Was Just Me, which I loved and highly recommend. Brown's work on perfectionism, shame and vulnerability has helped me understand a lot of things about myself that I hadn't before, and for which I am grateful. The blogger I've linked to in this post has helped me, too, with her willingness to be vulnerable and share her pain with others whom it might help. It does. It has. And I am grateful.