The beginning of a new post is always the hardest. Picture trying to drag a 4 year old out of a local trampoline gym…
Yep. That’s it.
There’s a difference between having the words flow freely through your soul, day in and day out – and actually having to type them into (mostly) complete sentences for others to comprehend. Not to mention, I haven’t written a full post in well over 8 months, and there’s a reason for that.
Before I set the pace for the remainder of my revamped blog, its important to take a peek into Motherhood currently…
I wish I could say the previous post I wrote about new beginnings, and breaking out of the crappy circumstances was over and accomplished.
Done and done.
Everyone here is healthy, we are doing exceptionally well financially, and that our dreams have all come to fruition. My anxiety is 100% cured (without medication), and I’m back to running 4 miles a day at record pace, chugging kale smoothies, and eating straight vegan while dropping pounds off my waist like those people you see in Subway commercials.
In fact, my precious, well dressed, daily showered kids never get in trouble, and I’m basically a supermom- with no guilt what so ever for spending money on fake eyelashes instead of horse camp.
As much as I want that, so deeply… our lives have been quite the opposite.
within a 12 hour span,
all three of my children started puking.
It may have had something to do with Lily, who in a full Halloween cat costume (that’s another post), was caught “inch worming” across the Target floor last week, while I (on the other hand) couldn’t make up my mind on our guest bedroom sheets because of the most ridiculous anxiety.
Or the fact that Isla dropped – then ate – a broken oreo off the ground in the parking lot.
Y’all, I couldn’t make this up if i tried.
I fed them lunchables that day, excusing the mom guilt and replacing it with nostalgia with my own childhood, and then proceeded to scream at them in the car because swatting me across the face in public is mortifying.
Mom guilt kicked in about 5 seconds later, and I apologized for “being mean” – then asked them to please stop crying because I can’t handle any more whining.
Mom. Of. The. Year.
Thanks last Thursday, for royally kicking my behind – then puking on my face a few days later.
You are no longer welcome here.
I keep telling myself “I’m fine” even though I’d rather stay under the covers every day of the week. Y’all making decisions is hard when your running on low sleep and patience, but add anxiety to the picture and it feels like you’re going to ruin your life deciding between grey, or white sheets for your guest room. The microfiber one (we all know is more comfy) is $49.99 for the set, and the other one for college kids is $25.78 on sale. I mean, they won’t be used everyday, probably rarely in fact – but if I stayed with a friend I’d want the soft ones.
Again, because we all know friendship rides on soft, grey sheets. Or wait, white?
This is just one part of my everyday struggle.
If you’re anything like me, or battle with anxiety yourself – you most likely question and research EVERYTHING daily. Google has undoubtedly become my long lost Aunt, who is all gossip and experience, but has no solid answer to what’s best for me.
I’ve embarrassingly become a master of overthinking, over analyzing, and over valuing situations – which means at the end of the day, I’m still clueless.
Basically, driving a car with a broken motor. As hard as I push on the gas pedal, I am indeed not going anywhere. Instead of fixing the motor (my thinking, habits, attitude, perspective), I continue to stomp on the pedal. I intake every bit of self-help information I possibly can on a daily basis, and continue to lay in bed.
Taking action is what’s going to spark the connection from the gas to the motor – but when your energy is low that’s hard to do.
Having no energy is a combination of crappy self-care, skewed priorities, and nourishing your body with processed foods. As most of you know I’m reading a book written by Rachel Hollis called “Girl, Wash your Face”. There’s thousands of gold snippets in that book, but one that recently stuck out in the category of nourishment was this…
“If you wouldn’t feed it to your kids, why do you feed it to yourself”.
Whoa. Nelly. If that ain’t the truth.
Skipping breakfast and instead sneaking a sea salt caramel may sound amazing, but girl. You’re worth more than that. Worth more than extra large coffee’s instead of lunch. Worth more than eating kids leftovers, and joking about it later. Worth more than hiding in the closet with a Snickers for snack.
As correct and official as I may sound, on the other side of the screen I just pounded a bag of Doritos, AND ate a spoonful of my daughters birthday cake icing like it was my job.
Preaching to my real-self here.
The one who’s relied on chips and salsa for the last month to give her a beach body. I’ll let you decide on how that’s going… hah.
Then there’s the weight.
The extra FIFTY pounds I’ve gained in the last handful of years. I keep telling myself it’s the booze, but after a month of not drinking – it’s not falling off the way it used to. Self-conscious thoughts roll around, getting dressed is an absolute chore because “nothing fits anymore”, and feeling truly sexy has become a distant memory. Anxiety creeps in again, so I roll my eyes and grab a peanut butter egg out of my kids Easter candy.
Now friends, I KNOW you lose weight by exercise and diet.
We all do Captain Obvious,
…but you’re talking to the girl who gags at the thought of eating a salad without creamy dressing or a mountain of cheese.
The struggle is REAL yo.
It seems the only thing I’m “rockin” these days are my favorite olive green Nike sweats, and my Monat Mom hair – cause duh.
This is the part where I welcome you into my mess, into my daily struggle – and continue believing God gave me this story, paired with the gift of writing for a reason.
I firmly believe grief, struggle, victory, loss, and journey of resurrecting your own life is meant to be shared – or else what the hell was the purpose.
Every one of us has been blessed with a beautiful, genuine, and sometimes heartbreaking story for a reason. We are all unique, and yet all very much the same.
It’s time us Mama’s and women stopped focusing on our differences, and used the energy we compare lives with – to instead fuel each other to greater heights.
Except to do that,
one courageous soul must be vulnerable. Must connect to the hearts of others, the hurting and the joyous.
Today, and from this day forward – that’s mine.
Unashamed, and with all the faith in my soul.
Oh and ps. I chose grey and white striped sheets. Don’t ask.