Today was a day. It was Thursday, to be exact…a thoroughly uneventful day.
This is the third blog post that I’ve tried to write in order to share my day. All the posts have been so boring that I’ve about given up.
But, since writing is often how I make sense of things, I’m persisting and am tapping away at the keyboard once again.
Please keep in mind that I have no idea what I am going to write about, and there are no promises that anything remotely interesting will result.
For foreshadowing, let me share that all the schoolwork is caught up and my sister is back home at her house. She’s not back to where she was before all of this started, but making progress.
I got up this morning.
I went outside to let the chickens free from their coop.
I went back to bed.
My brief trek through the house on the way to the front door left me overwhelmed.
I lay in bed and started making a mental list of all that needed to be done now that life was returning to normal.
I thought about just staying in bed. I felt the anxiety start…
And then I said aloud, “Enough”.
I was tired of being tired. Done with feeling like I couldn’t catch up. Worn out from facing deadline after deadline. Sick of feeling like I was failing at everything.
So today there was no list. I didn’t try to accomplish anything. I didn’t have a goal. I didn’t plan to finish cleaning the house or even a single room. No expectation of catching up the laundry or the dishes or the dusting.
I just did some stuff.
I watered the plants and pulled off some dead leaves.
I washed, dried, folded and put up a load of laundry.
I emptied a couple of trash cans.
I sorted through my paper stash and thought about what I might create next.
I wandered through the house wiping away a cobweb or two and a bit of dust.
You can’t really tell that I did much of anything at all. The house doesn’t look all that different…or better.
But I feel different and better.
My actions may have seemed random, but they were intentional. I spent time in my home saying “hello” to my life…the life I had before it all started spinning out of control the first of August. I was reacquainting myself with the routines that I missed when other things took priority.
And now, I feel calm (or as calm as someone with anxiety can ever feel). I am looking forward to getting back to my “normal” life. Hopefully, I’ll remember some of the things I learned this month about what’s important and what’s not…about what needs to be done and what can wait.
All I know, is that a little routine and even a bit of boring sounds pretty good right now.
As I sit with my art journal watching a stupid movie on Netflix tonight, I’ll be thinking of those that are living away from their “normal” right now. And for those that are adapting to a new “normal” because their life has changed in a big way…
…for the friend who beat cancer but continues to battle the after effects of the treatment.
…for the friend whose cancer has returned and who is facing uncertainty and change.
…for the friend who adjusted to the new “normal” of Stage IV cancer and is now entering experimental treatment with an unknown outcome.
When life takes a crazy turn and we find ourselves in unfamiliar territory, it can be crazy hard. We find ourselves looking back at what was and we just want to go back to the familiar…the normal.
Going back isn’t an option. We are where we are.
Staying put isn’t an option. We have to go somewhere.
It’s not about courage or bravery. It’s not like we have a lot of choices.
The life we have is the one we live.
If we have a choice in the direction we can take, we make that choice…left, right, or straight ahead. And pray that it’s a good choice.
We cry, we yell, sometimes we pull the blanket over our head. We worry, we cope, we fail at some things and succeed at others.
We make a difference because we try, not because we did it all right.
And through it all we find comfort in the little things…
…in watering a plant and nurturing life.
…in wiping away a bit of dust or a few tears.
…in sorting through and thinking of what we might create with what we have.
And perhaps, most importantly, for finding something to be grateful for amidst it all.
Visual artist playing with collage, assemblage and whatever else I imagine. Homemaker and homeschooling Mom of four children aged 10 to 24. Ready to fully embrace life and leave regret and fear behind. Each new day is an opportunity to love, create and live with intention...