Everyone wants a piece of me. I feel my body tense, trying to shake things off, burdens, pressure, suffocating demands. Even 1st grade homework help needed is distracting me. I think my voice is tense even if I try to cover it up with low tones and softens. The hardness creeps in. The irritation. The impatience.
I keep my perfectionism at bay. I didn’t even think I project such ailment. Within me the grace and perfectionism are at war. But when I can’t control my time, people’s needs of my time and my attention, I realize I burst into a crazy thirst for order. The socks strewn across the girls bedroom annoy me. The dishes left near the dishwasher. The messy counter, always crumbs after breakfast. I have always cleaned and delighted in the order after. I have also encouraged, empowered, enlisted the family’s help. But now I catch myself snapping with irritation at the mess.
I don’t feel bad when I cross into bossy mode. My kids make me laugh as they describe how they see me when I’m on a quest for order. I am past that point. Yet again. This brings me to the realization that I need to cut things off my to do list, my projects, my groups. Nobody offended me. I am just overly booked, stretched thin. Very few things bring me joy. I am in survival mode. Events overwhelm me. I don’t want to see people. My mind is bursting at the seams.
Feeling determined in ruthlessly closing a few chapters. Or taking a break to have some rest and renewed energy to come back. If at all.