Last night, as I was cooking dinner, my mind wandered onto thoughts of my grandmother as it often does. I started thinking about how full her life has been. She worked. She owned a business. She raised a family. She is an amazing friend. She was involved in politics. She served the town in various capacities, etc., and yet, at the end of every day, the thing that she feels pressed to do is cook dinner for “the kids.”
Sometimes during a stressful day, week or quarter we (moms) doubt why we work. There are a lot of easy answers (the personal fulfillment, money, human interaction, and more), yet, while home on an extended maternity leave I have discovered another reason why being a working mom is a good thing.
I am going to spare you the running list of tasks that I performed or the lengths that I went to in order to achieve Super Mom status, but just know that I honestly did it all. Everything. I was a machine, literally. There was no time to be human. I was killing myself going through the motions, taking care of everyone and everything. And, sometimes, it felt awesome. I was unstoppable. I equated controlling the chaos with greatness. Therefore, I was a great mom.
A list of things I’m totally digging at the moment and have to share with you!
In order to keep myself awake I’ve been compiling list of things “to do” when no one else in the world seems awake. Simply getting up and turning on the light does not work anymore (plus who would want to wake up my darling husband).
I made the decision to shift to a position in my field that no longer required as much of me. I now have a great job that I enjoy (most of the time), but I am not where I imagined I would be career-wise by any means … Although this change worked wonders for my stress and seemed like a perfect solution, there have been many times over the last four years that I have wondered if I made the right choice. Am I fulfilling my purpose? Am I really making a difference? Am I doing enough?!? After all, I never really did get around to changing the world.
I am definitely one of those working mothers who lives on coffee and wine. You know the ones I mean. The ones who post coffee memes on their Facebook. The ones who use the emoji of a wine glass after any stressful statement they may text or post on social media. The ones who can’t seem to manage their busy lives without a cup of coffee in their hand and glass of wine to wind down at night. That is me. Well, it was me.
Over time, my inner voice became my reality. I succumbed to my inescapable anxiety. It was crippling and all-consuming. And soon I became resentful of my life.
In my very minimal downtime this week I watched the new episode of This is Us. It should probably be part of doctor’s orders to give it a few weeks before you embark on that show, but I went for it anyways.
In August, I moved my family’s cheese. Now we are trying to decide if we are just craving the old cheese or if we’re really ready to be optimistic about this new cheese.