Forgotten

This morning started with an argument. The stress of impending change is palpable. I feel like my chest is so tight. Painful excitement. Change can be utterly chaotic, even when it's wanted.

I spent the morning resentful, angry, pleading my case. I spent time out with the rabbits, I folded clothes in silence, I watched a documentary on organic agriculture. The vice grip on my heart started to lessen a little bit.

This afternoon, I walked to the garden in flip flops and a skirt. I planted kale and tore out our spring peas while my daughter and husband giggled in the swimming pool. The dirt is still under my fingernails as I type. As I pulled and dug, my heart softened and felt full and happy.

I came inside with my new layer of sunburn and cried. I cried a lot. I talked about working towards shared goals and feeling that time was ripe.

Something has shifted. It's been coming for about the last year, but most notably in the last several weeks, something has taken a hold of me. I cannot continue to live like this. I cannot continue to be an empty unfulfilled shell. I long to be still. To reap something worthwhile.

Reading Simplicity Parenting, watching Tiny House ("they were never around because they were always working to be able to afford the house") as well as countless other documentaries on food, gardening, simplicity, life, kindness, entitlement, working so hard in the garden, raising our own meat. I felt myself able to look more critically at where I am and where I want to be. What is my vision statement for my future and how can I achieve that with my family?

A couple of weeks ago, I ransacked the house. I made it through almost every corner. Bags upon bags of shallow contentment donated or thrown away. A desire to just be content with the basics was the fire behind each move. A critical eye towards every item in our fridge, in my daughter's room, in my cupboards. A need to feel like every item under my roof had a regular use for it to earn its stay. I could finally see a dent in the chaos. More work needs to be done, but it is happening.

We upped our bike game. Something that I see as having major potential for good family time together. I want to be active and outdoors. We unfortunately live too far away from most of the places that we need to go to so can't dedicate more to commuting by bicycle at this time, but at least we are now able to bring them with us. I long to see groceries on the back of my bike.

And finally for today, I have been thinking so much lately about my interactions with people, who I feel deep connections with, who I do not, relationships that I feel obligated to continue, and boundaries that I like to maintain with professional clients. I have thought about how Facebook and the internet has for the worse (and better) changed things I do every day. Hours spent mindlessly and anxiously reading drivel. Pseudo-friendships. Do moments really happen if they aren't shared there? Time spent on media and internet is a contentious thing in our home. I made the promise tonight that I will be at least removing the app from my phone. Seems silly really, but I expect a huge difference. I will still be there for my businesses and occasional personal, but I am hoping that I can stay away.

The next steps are:
Removing the television from our bedroom
Isolating all processed foods
Consumer detox
Shaking more farmer's hands
More stillness
More morning time
More Mr. Rogers

There's a moment, and this is it.

My New Year's thoughts have surrounded small moments. In the shuffle of the big picture ideal, these are, as expected, lost. What good is the outcome if the journey there is rife with pain, anger, exhaustion, disappointment, tension, stress? I cannot live for thoughts of someday, one day, when I am what I want to be. If I let thoughts of busyness take over, how will I feel? Busy. Tired. Spread thin. Unavailable. If I step back, breathe, and compartmentalize, I can relax. I can enjoy the delicious moments of near quiet in the grocery store at 8:00 a.m. on a weekday. These moments can fuel me during the times when I lose my thoughts.

I have thought often about escape. Needing to escape to watch TV, to knit, to escape for a moms night out, to escape, escape, escape. Moments away valued, my wrinkled fingers calculating the seconds that I can be free. Freedom from who I am and escape into who I really am not. I am a mom. I am not my mom. I am not failing if I don't look like that image. I am my own journey.

So much satisfaction has come this last week just being in those moments, even if they aren't something I particularly enjoy. Somewhere in the last several years, I have forgotten about the value of true simplicity. Not an article written by magazine telling you how to declutter your life. Not a tip from a multimillionaire telling me to not value money and instead enjoy more important things.

Small victories this week:
Snack tray dinner
Falling asleep cuddled into an over sized chair while watching a movie
Scrabble Junior
Hot dinner at the table
Breakfast ready for them when they woke on a Saturday morning
Unexpected time off of work and the ensuing nap and TV time
Listening to a little voice tell me that she just wants me
Clean counters
Pushing the buttons on my dishwasher
Hum of the refrigerator (how have I forgotten this sound?)
Cold toes
Hot water running over my face