I Spoke Up

It was a series of empowering decisions that led me to allow 4 strange women into my home.

It wasn't easy.
I struggled for a long time with feelings of guilt and unworthiness.
I felt like my needs were insignificant. Unreasonable even.

But slowly, I came around. I started to realize how legitimate my needs and wants were. As I began to speak them aloud, I became aware of the burden of just having them, and I shoved them deep down to a place just as insignificant as I thought they deserved. I discovered that there is actually no place in your mind or heart that is insignificant at all. It's all extremely important, and interconnected, and delicately interwoven. The body is a well oiled machine that needs every single tiny screw, bolt, or spring. There is no room to shove or hide anything. That's not how the machine works. It was well designed. Extremely efficient. Every part and piece intentional and purposeful.

Anyways... back to the four women and why I let them in my home:

1. Once I had babies, I realized taking care of something's every need, 24/7, was not fun and magical at all for me. I found it exhausting and draining to my introverted self. It’s hard. Relentless. Yes, joyful, but still the toughest thing I've ever had to do. I realized I wasn't designed to do it alone. I got to a point where I knew the mommy guilt was no longer working for me. I got to that yucky, desperate place where the need for change is so overwhelming, I couldn’t function without it happening. My mind would be totally lost and shut down if it didn't get it's quiet time to rest and process in it's own slow, quiet way. So, I finally spoke up. I realized how significant my feelings and needs were. And here's what happened:

A) We moved closer to family.
B) Twice a week I hired a babysitter, then eventually put the kids in a day school to socialize and catch colds, and not feel pressured to do play dates (I have a very extroverted toddler).
C) I enjoy weekends without them and even short vacations. I struggled with a lot of guilt at first, but realized this is what I, Emily, needed… to be a good mom. I am my own idea of what a mom is, and I get to choose what that looks like.

2. For years, I struggled with fear and anxiety every time my husband left on a work trip. After we had kids it got worse, since now (should disaster strike) I was not only responsible for myself, but for two little humans, too. On occasion, I'd sleep with a knife under my pillow and my car keys next to my head. Other than asking him not to go (which wasn't always possible - gotta get that $$$ ya'll!) I didn't think my feelings were a big enough deal to do anything about. But then, I began to get anxiety and panic attacks when I traveled, which I had never had before. I was frustrated. I got to that desperate point again. Clearly, it was time. I finally spoke up, and:

A) We got a security alarm system.
B) I enlisted a therapist to help address and figure out my anxiety with some good ol’ CBT techniques and support. 

3. With two toddlers, even in day school a couple times a week, I still felt like I didn't have any time to myself. I chose to be a stay at home mom, and be responsible for all affairs of the household, and children (and sometimes the husband). It is no easy task for one person to manage, especially when you have a ton of square footage of old house, half of which is your husband’s studio where guests, friends, and clients visit often, and interns work every day. So, finally, I spoke up, and:

A) I let go of the need for perfection, and really, my idea of what a Mom is, what a Mom "should be,” or what a Mom does. The image of a Mom's role somehow got stuck in my head, and it was totally wrong for me. (*I like to blame society and social media for this, while simultaneously thanking them that the role of Moms from the 40s and 50s are no longer around). I am not solely a Mom. I am way more than that. I started creating my own ideas of who I am and what my life looks like that works best for me and my family.
B) I hired a cleaning service. 

So yes, four strange women are in my home right now, cleaning. I feel vulnerable, judged, and uncomfortable. But more importantly, I feel relieved. Like a heavy burden that I’ve been carrying around has just disappeared. And fortuneately, I know that those feelings of vulnerability, judgement, and uncomfortableness will pass. They always do over time, and I know this for sure, because:

Every time I speak up, it gets easier. I feel lighter. And stronger. Empowered. And I reach that exhilarating point where I can take care of myself and my needs, take care of my family’s needs, and still have something left to give to others. 

Gotta Glow

While out enjoying a fantastic day shopping with my husband, we overheard a few young girls walking behind us. One told the other: "You just gotta glow. Just glow." To which her friend frustratingly replied: "Girl, I just wanna cross the street." So today, I just wanna glow. I want some positive vibes and happy thoughts and rainbows to head my way, so I decided to make it happen by creating a list of 25 Things I Really Enjoy:

1. Stretching.
2. My husband's smile, and his laugh (the kind where he can barely breathe and doubles over).
3. When my kids make a discovery or learn something new. The look on their faces is priceless. 
4. The Sun: A) Eating watermelon under it while enjoying a cool breeze on a perfect day, B) the way it filters through the leafy canopy of trees and magically makes world seem to twinkle and sparkle, and C) the way it peeks through a cloudy day and warms my face.
5. When my spirit is moved by a song. 
6. A book I get so sucked into I can’t eat or sleep till I finish it. 
7. Warm, scrumptious comfort food, like homemade gnocchi or risotto.
8. How wearing gym clothes allows my body to move the way it was designed.
9. A worn in pair of flip flops.
10. The feeling of fabulous luxury cotton clothes, especially summer dresses against my skin.
11. Getting cozy on the couch with a book and a pot of tea within reach on a gray, rainy day.
12. Giggling with my little girls. 
13. The few moments when my little girls wake up and are all disheveled and snuggly. 
14. The bubbly feeling of elation when reaching my goals or feeling proud. 
15. The way my body feels when I’ve tested it: surfing, playing racquetball, running, swimming, biking, cycling, yoga-ing, weight lifting, long walks, skiing, stuffed with food, relaxed in a hot tub or steam room, sex, and even having babies. I love knowing and feeling what it’s capable of, especially since it helps me love it more. 
16. Seeing my family, and seeing them happy and loving life. 
17. Digging my toes into the sand and listening to ocean waves crash.
18. Floating on my back in the ocean and staring at the sky.
19. Floating on my stomach in the ocean and searching for treasure.
20. The excitement and butterflies in my stomach of exploring a new place. 
21. Watching animals at the zoo.
22. The way I lose track of time when I write. Or read. 
23. The randomness of tree branches.
24. Bright, happy colors.
25. My life. 

What are some things you really enjoy? I hope just thinking about them puts a smile on your face. You just gotta glow. :) 

Stepping Over Waffles

I noticed a two-day old, rock hard Eggo waffle on the floor of my kitchen. I didn't bend over and pick it up. I didn't grab a broom and sweep it. My first instinct was to kick it under the table, but I knew if I did that, it'd live on the floor even longer than if it stayed in its current spot. So I acknowledged it, took a picture of it, and stepped over it.

That’s what me embracing chaos looks like. Yes, it would’ve been easy to pick up, much like the other millions of little things scattered across the floors of my house. One can only bend over so many times before one simply cannot. 

That's also what me actively practicing acceptance looks like. I'm accepting the mess that comes with managing a household with little kids. I'm going to bed at night being okay with a sink full of dishes, food left out on the table, mountains of laundry covering my couch, hand prints marking my mirrors and windows, and Barbies, baby dolls, and crayons covering every surface. Beds rarely get made, because they get a lot of use. My kids might be unbathed and reusing last night’s pajamas, but their bellies and hearts are full, because we’re too busy having fun.

I fought the chaos for too long. I thought that having a clean house meant that I was a kick ass woman who was doing her job and taking care of her family. At least my house being clean was something I could control when life felt chaotic (which, with little kids, is like 100% of the time). But trying to reach unachievable goals was not only affecting me, but my relationships. I found myself questioning if maintaining order was the best use of my time. It’s relentless, exhausting, unfulfilling, thankless, annoying, frustrating, awful, unending, and at times, ridiculous (why are the dirty clothes right in front of the hamper and not actually in the hamper?). And I realized, my job isn’t to be a housekeeper, maid, or to be perfect, it’s to be a woman who takes care of her family while maintaining her sanity and sense of self. And that in itself is gonna be messy.

Staring at the cemented waffle, I surrendered to orderliness (but not to the germs, those jerks still need to be wiped-out). I don’t want to be remembered as a woman who's greatest success was keeping her house and family clean: I don’t want a trophy for that, I don’t want people in my life who expect it, and I most certainly don’t want it as my epitaph. 

Thanks to an article by Tim Challies, I'm doing a better job rationalizing the constant mess: 

“According to the wisest man who ever lived… messes are not proof of a wasted life, but of a productive one.
Where there are no oxen, the manger is clean, but abundant crops come by the strength of the ox” (Proverbs 14:4). According to this explanation, the proverb is about the messiness of a life well-lived. Tremper Longman says the moral is that “a productive life is a messy life.” Longman says, “One desires a neat and tidy life, just as the ideal stall would be clean. However, a clean stall by the nature of things would mean an empty stall since oxen do not have to be in a stall long before it is messy. However, without oxen there is no productivity.”
Derek Kidner says, that “Orderliness can reach the point of sterility. This proverb is [a plea for] the readiness to accept upheaval, and a mess to clear up, as the price of growth.” 

I figure for now, I'll leggo my need for order, and enjoy the growth of what is becoming the most productive life ever. And if I am invited into your messy home (that I probably won't even notice), I promise to congratulate or comment on your wonderfully productive life. 

Thanks for the perspective, little waffle.