Other than the church thing. And that it is backwards. I am in such a great mental place now, and looking back I am consumed with regret about how much energy I spent wishing my life was simpler then....with daycare woes, death, business, anger, parenting mistakes, divorce finalization, purchasing a house, finances, kids, relationship, and and and and. I am amazed I survived without any body being disposed of in my trunk.
So read this beautiful masterpiece, and honestly ask yourself, which side of the spectrum is your life on right now?
Last night, as I waited for my brain to turn off and the drowsiness to descend, I read through my journal from last year.
I was sad and slightly startled to see how much depth my writing had 12 months ago. These days, my writing tends toward the surface and the amusing. Nothing wrong with that, inherently. It’s a large part of who I am. I’m always thrilled when good friends tell me my blog is exactly like the real-life me. That’s a compliment.
Yet, I’m not a shallow person. At least, I didn’t use to be.
“I’m forlorn,” I thought to myself as I snuggled under the comforter, drowsiness padding my brain. “Yes, that’s it exactly. I’m forlorn.”
Waking up this morning to sunshine and cereal with blueberries and “Diego’s Moonlight Rescue,” I didn’t feel quite so melancholy. (My sanguine personality wastes little time throwing pity parties. They aren’t fun.)
But the basic premise remains: This year, I’m living. But I’m not delighting. At least, not enough.
I know much of this can be chalked up to the changes of the last year. New house, new city, new baby, new school, new church, new friends, new schedule. New, new, new. Who has time to reflect and ponder and wonder when the dishwasher needs to be unloaded and the dinner needs to be made and the kids need lunch and the baby needs to be held? Oh, and did I mention my husband has been gone at least a week each month on business trips?
Thus, I have been consumed by the urgent, day-to-day details of life. It takes a lot of energy to keep this many plates spinning.
And while I truly love the adventure of the new and the delight of new discoveries – and yes, a part of me even delights in the challenge of keeping the plates spinning – I also miss the old me.
The old me was better at balancing the surface, urgent life with the deep, important life. I was better at playing with my children, instead of excusing myself under the guise of getting another task accomplished. I was better at noticing the simple gifts in my path each day, instead of rushing about, like a chicken desperate to get its fill of grain before the wind blows it away.
I had more margin in my soul. More space. More room to breathe.
How do I get it back?
