To start, I am the one who was struggling throughout the holidays just to find some semblance of the peace and joy that the Christmas season should inspire. I began to baby step into some routines and things got better (far from peace and joy mind you) for a little while. But then my ADD, or rather a combo of mine and my son’s ADHD got in the way again. However, while I have gone through all the emotions of denial, depression, anger, and hate all over again because my house once again looks like a derecho (land hurricane which we actually experienced and was horrible 2 summers ago) attacked it again, I am able to start seeing these and the mess for what they are, nasty buggers in my head that are holding me back from finding my peace and joy.
My husband still hates coming home to a messy disaster, but even he is beginning to see how his own reactions fuel my anger and doubt in myself and makes more of a silly joke about it instead of snapping my head off!!
The moment I began reading it was one of my particularly bad days recently. My kids and parents had been out of town visiting some friends which left DH and I home alone for the first time in a while. He and I got to spend some very valuable time together, and I had some time to reflect on my disaster without my kids whining and complaining that they had to help. I admit, I had fallen out of my flylady nest again and so went right back in to perfectionist mode thinking I had to get it all done before the kids got back in town so DH and I could really have some relax time and I didn’t even remember to at least use the crisis cleaning system, so I exhausted myself. I cleaned for two days straight, vegged for a day and did another 48 hr stint. BAD idea!
At the end of the last 48 hrs my kids were home, which also meant Dear mother and Dear Father were home too. I offered my dad some ice cream in my freezer that DH didn’t like and to answer me he said “I’m really disappointed in your lawn mowing skills. ..” And that way it. …the start of back to back 48hr stints of no sleeping, only with this one I did no cleaning , only crying for hours and hours. Without one thought to what I might possibly have been doing instead of mowing the grass he jumped to a conclusion that I had simply done nothing at all, including mowing the grass.
I spent a lot more time crying over Gina’s struggles because her story in a lot of ways is my story. I’m simply viewed by most everyone around me as the lazy piece of trailer trash who sits around playing video games or watching movies all day. So much so that my own parents no longer even entertain the idea that I could possibly have been doing something useful even though the grass didn’t get mowed.
But, reading Gina’s story inspired me, and in just the few days since I began reading the book, my house is FAR from the place of peace and comfort I want, but my mind is much more peaceful than ever before.
It has finally hit….my Ah-Ha moment. I don’t have to put up with the soul sucking put downs. What they say to me no longer matters. Only what I let get in to my head matters, and perfectionism and/or attempting to keep up with my patents perfectionistic schedule no longer has a place in my mind, heart, or soul. I can’t keep up, and I shouldn’t have to.
I even started a journal, kinda like Gina did, only it’s home made and thankfully expandable. I dint realize the sheer force of pain I was holding on to that the entirety of the first journal is filled with events leading up to a life changing moment. Gina taught me that it is impossible to achieve something when you are trying to achieve it for someone else’s pleasure. You have to do it for you, and in your own time, or it will continue to fail as it always has and continue to fuel your self loathing. I had truly begun to hate myself. And my perfectionism nearly had me scrap the homemade journal that was too small to fit more than the first leg of my journey, but within hours of reading some of that story I fell in love with MY journal. It’s not some expensive, fancy, leather bound beauty, but it is 100% me. Anyone who saw it would know it was mine because it’s crafty, rough around the edges, glossy but made with mostly muted colored scrap book paper and the pages are made from paper bags….which is some of my favorite crafting material. I smile like a fool now just thinking about it. It’s enormous imperfection is exactly what makes it perfect for me. However, now I have to make another one cause that one is full, and my hope is the characteristics of each new homemade journal will represent my journey and my growth, much like Susan’s sand table. I didn’t realize I had something that could represent my journey until I began the journal.
So, apologies for being so long winded, but I felt I needed to tell you how you and your family have touched my life yet again. Evidently my flybaby journey had to begin with the mental clutter. My mantra has become:
We really can’t declutter our homes until we declutter ourselves and discover why WE want to do this instead of why everyone else wants us to!!!
Flybaby Jesse, Southern West Virginia