Seasons and Change
And just like that, the house is quiet.
For the last 3 months, there has been very little quiet in my home. This is because my children have been on summer break. What starts as exciting in June is exhausting by August. Summer has always been tough for me. You see, as a recovering people pleaser and achievement addict who has been pummeled by mom guilt for the last 15 years, summer means that you are trying to juggle the fantastical expectations of children, while hoping their brains don’t rot, and keep them fed… all the time… why are they always so hungry?! Oh, and don’t forget self-care and your personal and professional goals… you’re supposed to do those too…
In June, we begin with hopeful wishes, dreams, and idealist project goals. By the time July rolls around, we begin to feel those dreams slip away because the structure has begun to slide. We’re beginning to realize that we’ll do what it takes to survive. By August, we’re barely functioning. The house is a mess, the kids are eating whatever is most convenient, and screen time is your saving grace.
Last year, my burnout and languishing came to a head during the summer, and it honestly followed much of the timeline I outlined in the paragraph above. In June, I had a plan of what I thought would keep me functioning. By July, I had to admit I was too tired for all aspects of my plan, and I started therapy. By August, I was so tired and worn out that all I wanted to do was disappear for a while. I remember worrying out loud to my therapist that I was broken forever, and I didn’t know how I was going to handle summers moving forward. This is when she began to teach me about seasons.
One of my toxic burnout habits is that I believed I had to be pushing all the time. I lived by the rule that if you’re not growing, you’re dying. This means that I was always looking for the next thing. I was almost trying to live two steps ahead of where I currently was. Each plan I implemented was thought through for future potential as well as current possibility. Nothing was tackled simply because everything should be thought of as an investment. The problem with this was that I was constantly managing all these future potential threads and was scared that if I stepped away from any of them – even if stepping away was just for a time – that those threads would snap, and I would lose all the extra potential I had been cultivating. However, this means, I never took a break. Ever.
One of my healing tasks in the last year has been to change my thinking. Instead of seeing my growth as a straight trajectory on a continuous timeline, I needed to see growth as something that is fluid and moves in seasons. I can keep the learnings I get from each season, but it’s ok to let things change, shift, and last for only a little while. I can still be wise in investing in things that have potential now and in the future, however, I don’t need to desperately cling to that future potential. The loss of that perceived future is not something I need to be so focused on that I miss the signals and needs of today.
To survive this summer, I had to allow the last three months to be their own season. When I would say “no” to potential commitments, I had to consciously remind myself that saying no to that was not a lack of capability. Instead, it is simply not the right time. I still said yes to more things than I should have, but I’m improving, and I didn’t feel as much guilt. Moreover, my children had me more present more often.
Now that the house is quiet, I’m repressing thoughts of well-intentioned friends who have told me that some day I’ll miss the hubbub and chaos. I believe they are right. However, I’m ok with also saying that the hubbub and chaos are hard and that they will only last for a season. I can both love it and be overwhelmed by it and that’s ok. More than anything though, I’m ok with saying that there are times that I need a break or a change and I’m grateful that those times come too.
Thanks for reading with me today. I hope this season has been a joyful one for you – even if the joy comes from letting it go.