I’ve been in one of those places. A literal season, if you will.
It happens every winter even though I will it not to happen. And then I hate it even more, because it feels like a little bit of a self-fulfilling prophecy. I just wait for daylight savings time to show its face again because that’s usually when it gets better. I’ve tried being optimistic, but eventually it can be easy to get worn down. I’ve shamelessly focused on the little things, like purchasing a gigantic mirror ball to reflect the sunlight when it does appear, to distract me from the the rainy season of dog hair tumble weeds. The sink is full of dishes, the laundry is piled, and the makeup work for our children has been never ending.
No, my laundry space doesn’t look like this. You can’t see it because it’s currently drowning in towels and underwear. I’m filling this post with pretty pics so you’ll humor me and listen to my story, okay?
I’ve been sick for a month between the flu and recovery, and then a brutal cold that followed. I don’t get sick, and I’m the one who proclaims this fact right before falling ill. So just imagine for a moment how insufferable I’ve been. I’ve been working non-stop, right alongside Jamin on weekends and nights – and really, it’s a good thing because that means our business is doing well. But I’m worn down. Parenting has been in a rough stage. I feel like I’m falling behind and falling short. It didn’t help that the kiddos have been sick too, so much that the older two received their annual truancy letter last week. Yes, we use elderberry syrup and vitamins and oils and immunizations and vegetables. Advice, at this point, just makes me a tad twitchy.
I’m pretty sure that my youngest will have his school picture taken in a dinosaur t-shirt today, with a giant cowlick and cinnamon roll remnants sprinkled around his face, because I totally forgot it was said picture day for the second time this year. I promise we eat vegetables.
Just a strawberry on top of my pity cake, y’all.
So this story takes place on an average day in the middle of the difficult.
I could feel it building, for no good reason. And then I decided to lose my everlovingmind, and stand on a scale. Why would I do this to myself when my hormones are raging, and I’m exhausted, you may ask? I thought it would be good to check in, and also. because I’m a moron. A few more things happened that morning, that just felt like a bad day…. so it was basically no surprise when I melted.
Let me freeze for a moment and acknowledge this: My meltdown boils down to numbers I didn’t like because of societal expectations that I stupidly listen to, and stress that caught up with me because of more inner expectations I place on myself. But pile this on top of not feeling well and the frustration behind that, and… melt down city. I was mid-conversation with friends when I just started blubbering. The tears started flowing. Because when you’re perpetually worn down, everything feels huge in the moment.
And I immediately felt so dumb.
“I’m so sorry,” I muttered through tears, trying desperately to regain my composure.
“These are total first world problems. I feel so dumb.”
“Sorry I freaked out. I’m so sorry.”
Over. And Over. And over again.
One of my greatest fears, is being too much. An imposition. Too intense. An obligation. Too passionate. Too vulnerable and too honest. I’ve always worn my heart on my sleeve, and I’ve been ashamed of it. The very last thing I ever want to do, is put someone else out. So I try my hardest to reel it in. Suck it up. Pack it down. Isn’t this the southern woman’s way?
I cover that heart with bad apologies.
“Stop apologizing,” they all said. In that moment, I realized I was in a safe space. The sweet people I found myself blubbering to, were having none of my ‘sorries’. I feel the same way when someone vents to me. So why is my immediate go-to buffer of shame, throwing out apologies?
I like being a safe space for other people. I honestly feel like empathy is something I’m pretty good at. So no, you’re not an imposition. You’re never too much. You’re totally okay. We all have those moments.
But when it’s me?
I absolutely beat myself up. Learning to be okay with who I am right now, no matter what that looks like in the present, will forever be my struggle. So I’m working to change the dialogue. On redirecting my thought patterns. I’m that person at the airport with the glow sticks and the headphones, trying to help the Boeing 747 {an extended, all too obvious metaphor for my spiraling thoughts} that really needs to turn it around, before it awkwardly crunches into the terminal where grandma is waving goodbye. And for the love of Jehosephat, stop standing on the stupid scale.
Instead of “Sorry I freaked out and cried”, how about “Thank you for being a safe space for me”?
Or even in the simple, every day stuff substituting gratefulness for an apology. Instead of saying “Sorry I couldn’t do that,” how about “Thank you so much for doing that for me”. Or “Sorry I’m late,” how about “Thank you for waiting on me”.
Don’t get me wrong. Apologies are sometimes very much necessary. But not to the degree that I use them, and I find that a lot of this is a cultural female thing. For the record, I don’t hear men apologizing for half as much, bless, so let’s take a note from the pages of their book. As one of my wiser friends said in that moment, when we constantly give into that mentality, we become sorry.
So stop.
To my people who listened to me melt that day without judgement, thank you for being a safe place. Thank you for hearing me out. Thank you for letting me have a moment.
Thank you for being the person with the headphones and the glow sticks when I failed at redirecting my own thoughts, and giving me that sweet reminder of grace. Thank you for creating space for me and my fear of being too much that moment. Thank you for repositioning that heart on my sleeve, because it’s not a bad thing. Sometimes I just need a little help with the reprogramming part.
It’s more of what we all need.
A little less sorry, a little more thank you.
KariAnne says
Love this so much! Truth? You’re right.
You are a lot.
A lot of joy.
A lot of humor.
A lot of witty dialogue and empathy and conversation and wisdom and kindness.
And I LOVE IT.
Never change friend. You are perfect just the way you are.
ashley @ the handmade home says
This makes me tear up. LOVE you. Thank you for your precious friendship.
Althea Mathewson (Allie) says
I so much believe this to be true. You really hit the mark of where I am. My Seasonal (depressional) disorder is always worse in the winter and made worse on dark, rainy days!!! I have chronic pain and on some days it is difficult to even function….. which makes me feel “not enough”…etc. Thank you for being you and giving me a friend who understands! Lots of hugs, xoxo Allie
Julie Briones says
Well, I certainly can’t top what KariAnne said… but, yeah… what she said! 😉 Your “tad-twitchy” remark made me guffaw… in my office… at my day job. Oops! Hugs, sweet friend! You don’t know how much you have blessed ME, even in the little contacts we have. And, you are NOT alone!;-)
ashley @ the handmade home says
HAHA! I’m so glad I could provide a laugh. One does get a little tired of advice when they’re at their wit’s end. ;D Thank you so much for your sweet comments – that truly means the world. You have been so sweet and supportive. Hope you have an amazing weekend.
Jenny says
Thank you for taking the time to write this post.
Thank you for being transparent and honest.
I’m going through a very similar season.
I needed to hear that I’m not alone in all my feelings.
❤️❤️❤️
ashley @ the handmade home says
NOT AT ALL, Jenny. Thank you so much for stopping by today. We’re not alone!
Bets says
I have been there many times… Overwhelmed, standing in the Fields of Should (“I should be looking for more work.” “I should be cleaning the house.” “I should be doing more with my kids.”), or experiencing the Tsunami of Shouldn’ts (“I shouldn’t look like this.” “I shouldn’t feel this way.” “I shouldn’t complain so much.”) Why are we SO hard on ourselves???
I hope your meltdown brought you a little bit of peace (crying is such a relief sometimes) as it shined a light on your friendship with those who love you — all of you — including your exquisite humanity. xoxo
ashley @ the handmade home says
Thank you so much Bets. Your comments are always so sweet.
Shelly says
Thank you Ashley for this post! It is spot on for me! It helps to know others who are sensitive, and wears her heart on her sleeves.
I loved what Karianne said, so ditto that too!
ashley @ the handmade home says
Awe thank you so much for dropping by today. It does help. So glad I’m not alone. Hugs to you!
Debbie says
Wow! You could just sign that post as written by me!!!! Kind of makes me feel better today to know I’m not alone! Thanks for the honesty!
PJ says
This spoke to my heart. Thank you!