I made a choice to stop writing here mid-summer. It felt like the right thing to do because I felt insane.
I try so hard — too hard — in the summer to do all of the things. I kept pushing my kids to prioritize — “What do you most want to do? Just pick two things” — but I sort of failed to follow my own instructions. I wanted to write. And exercise. And work. And garden. And play all day. And go on vacation. And work on all the stuff I had not gotten around to during the school year.
I’m not terribly realistic sometimes with the to-do lists.
Overwhelmed, I whittled the priorities down. The list became:
- Stay alive.
- Stay sane.
- Bathe, on occasion.
And we did it! Success! We are all alive, we have not been locked up in the mental ward and we are (mostly) clean.
So I gave up the writing. Whether that saved me from insanity or caused it, I’m not sure. I know that I need moments of introspection that writing provides, but I also need to not try so hard all the time to do everything just right. Dissolving into a useless, twitching blob is sometimes the best way to encounter the Grace and Strength that comes from who we really are and not who we’re trying to be.
But I am equally desperate and elated to be back on here again.