Back-to-School is the New Christmas.
Wednesday, August 25, 2010 What I mean is that it seems like everyone I know, myself certainly included, really wants to be soaking up the last lovely bits of summer, but instead feels overrun, overscheduled, and overtired.
It feels like Christmas a little bit: your house is full of shopping bags and cookies and to-do lists and your schedule is jam packed. It should be special and perfect, but all at once you admit it's way too much, and that your head has been hurting for days and all you want is to get back to that place where you can see clearly and hear your own heartbeat just for a minute. And you add to the stress a little bit of guilt, for compromising such an important season with your own manic choices.
I'm not saying that end-of-summer is as sacred as Christmas, of course, but when I compromise any season, especially one as rich and beautiful as the end of summer in the Midwest, I feel badly, like someone's put an amazing meal in front of me, and I'm eating it but not really tasting it.
I've lost the plot recently. I'm too busy, the to-do list is too long, and instead of putting on the brakes when I needed to, I pushed that idea away and committed to more and more things.
In one broken-open moment--the kind I was trying to avoid with one more party, one more interview--I finally admitted to myself that I'm nervous about the fall tour. There's so much work still to do. I'm afraid I'm leaving Henry too much. I'm worried that people won't like the book, and that I'll stare out from a stage somewhere, in Virginia or Texas or Colorado, and feel like I shouldn't have come, like all the work and planning and leaving was for nothing. There are lovely memories I carry from the last time around, but also some really lonely moments in hotel rooms when I wondered, what am I doing here? Why aren't I home with my family and community?
And, of course, it all looks so much worse when you're tired. I'm tired. I'm cry-when-I-stub-my-toe, entertain-sleep-fantasies kind of tired. That magnifies everything.
I'm trying to wrap my head around the marathon training and a book release party this weekend, a fundraiser for a friend's daughter and a wedding I'm officiating next week, a magazine interview this morning (at my house! My house is a disaster!) and a seriously overrun inbox. I've got a long list from my publisher about things to be done for the release, and Henry needs school clothes. In the middle of that, I chipped my front tooth and my babysitter started school again.
The one day this week that I do have a sitter so I can plow through some long-overdue work, I scheduled to have the carpets cleaned. See? Evidence of having lost the plot. My husband laughed out loud and told me to cancel that immediately.
And, of course, of course, I'm not complaining. I'm so thankful for my job and excited about the book. I love what I do and am grateful every day. At the same time, I need to make some changes to make it all work well together, and the friends I've spent time with the last few days are saying the same thing, that even though things are good, very very good, they're also verging on out of control.
I'm trying again today, trying to give my energy to what's most important, not just what's right in front of me. I'm trying to pay attention to what's pulling at me under the surface, instead of saying yes, yes, yes, so that I don't have to face it for a little while more.
And I'm reminding myself of the biggest thing: God made a gorgeous rich world, stuffed with glowing green trees and child cheeks and good friends. And when I spin out into my own anxieties and frantic days, I miss out. It's all there, waiting to be seen, discovered, heard, entered into. And I'm determined not to miss it today.
Reader Comments (9)
But reading your post helped me to remember that if I don't take a breath to enjoy today - discussions with a 3rd grader about girls in his class, imagining the meet the teacher meeting tomorrow morning with my 4 year old, down-loading our days as my husband and I sit on the couch with a glass of wine at 9pm when everyone is FINALLY in bed - I could end up missing it. I could gloss over these little moments so easily...and I often do.
Thank you for sharing your thoughts on this and for prompting others to think about it as well.
the dreams of sleep and having time to just curl up with a book and a cup of coffee...where did all the unscheduled time go? oh, that's right. i gave it all away in the name of being involved and connected and social.
my plan for september: learning how to say NO and making time for things like rest, stillness, and self-care.
Shauna, I am almost finished with bittersweet, and I just want you to know I really think we would be friends in "real life." Or have a really good conversation over some risotto at least. And I mean that in the most genuine, non-delusional fan kind of way too because I bet 50 people a day tell you that. But I mean- the deeper I get into the book the more I find chapters that are almost identical to blog entries I have written or exact things I have thought and it's just CRAZY. So crazy that I start thinking about the term "copyright" and getting a little sweaty/nervous. Ha! But then again, your words are a lot more polished and eloquent so I'm sure no one would ever even connect the two.
But in all seriousness, thank you for your book. Thank you for the honesty you put into it and for sharing who you are. Thank you for reminding me about the home team and about being ravenous and that it's okay to not have it all figured out when you're 27. Maybe I will when I'm 30 though. Everybody I know who seems to have "it" figured out is at least 30 so there's still some hope for me yet.
As weird as this may sound, so much of what you write validates and explains who I am and helps me to understand myself a little bit better.