I am in a phase of wanting to purge my environment. Donation piles of toys and clothes pile up by the door before I whisk them off to sit in the back of my van for weeks on end. Eventually, they make their way to the donation center and I feel an irrational sense of accomplishment.
The other day I was picking up wrapper after wrapper of garbage from my tiny snackers and vacuuming up sand and pebbles on every inch of the kitchen floor and I sat with the thought that I am constantly picking up after other people. It feels endless. One room to the next and the next, shuffling more things than any five people could need around and around until we’ve all grown out of them, from height, weight, or boredom. I sat for a moment with the thought and let it grow from annoyance to gratitude. Gratitude for the tiny snacking humans. Gratitude for the rug that holds the wrappers and the walls that keep us safe. Gratitude for the clothes we wear and the shoes we fill with sand.
I can’t always make the shift from annoyance to gratitude but when I can, it settles over me like a warm blanket on a chilly night. I take a deep breath and look at the same room that moments before made my blood boil and all of a sudden I see home. I see the three boys cuddled up on the couch under a blanket and suddenly imagine them rushing to get there, dropping coats, backpacks and shoes to be snuggled up together, and the sand in the kitchen doesn’t feel so frustrating.
I wish that I could say these moments were easier to reposition…to shift to a more positive perspective and that I didn’t want to pull my hair out most nights screaming the same instructions to the same people until I feel like I’m teetering on the edge of sanity. I wish I could tell you I have it all anything figured out. The truth is, I had so many moments these last few months that made me question if I could ever get my old self back. The one who had so much more patience for the people she created and the husband she married. The one who wasn’t so easily triggered by disappointments or setbacks. Somewhere along the way, I lost her in heartache and grief. I hardened her in an attempt to shield myself from pain. I became cautious and skeptical that if I let my guard down, I would be unprepared for the next battle. And as it was all happening, I tried to resist. I knew I didn’t feel like myself. I knew I didn’t want to be this on edge, this unhappy, this unpleasant to be around. I didn’t want my kids to look at me and see anything other than a safe and loving sanctuary.
Yesterday, a memory popped up from November 1, 2021. In it, I noted that October would always be a month of mixed emotions since my mother passed, but at that moment, I was grateful for the fresh start a new month presented. Flipping to a new page in the calendar felt like an invitation to change in more ways than one. It turns out, I needed that same reminder this year. I needed to tuck October back in it’s place. To thank it for the space it provided to feel deep emotions and process the milestone of making it 1 whole year without my mom before turning the page to what may come next. And instead of cowering in fear that the next step will be a scary one, I decided to assume that it might be better. That it might be easier. Maybe here, the growth in year two can bring me back to the person I hope to be.
So while I’m purging physical things we no longer need, I’m also taking stock of feelings and beliefs that no longer serve me. I’m purging the idea that I have to be a certain way. I’m throwing out the thought that a version of myself that is disappointing or short-tempered will forever define my influence on others. I’m letting go of the things that no longer serve me and making space for the moments that humble me along the way. And through all of it, I’ll probably still be vacuuming up sand in my kitchen.
Until next time,
-T-
