redyogimom

Yoga, motherhood, badass awesome sauce and love

Tag Archives: tired


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Plants and the seasons…

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Have you ever been in a no man’s land? You weren’t angry or particularly unhappy but there was an insatiable craving for something other than what you had. Enough OFF to be unnerving, like somehow you weren’t doing what you were meant to be or living up to your potential or something. So, I’m there, but add some guilt, shame, and disappointment with my own expectations and impulsiveness and for someone who usually flies by the seat of her pants and doesn’t give two shits, this is uncomfortable. I’m fortunate enough to have an amazing network of friends, they’ve been kind enough to humor me and listen to my insane ramblings, the truth is that no one else can get me through this slump except for myself. It’s time to get off this loop, it’s time to stop doing the same old shit, it’s time to change.

 

Elizabeth Gilbert poignantly pointed out, ” I’ve never seen any life transformation that didn’t begin with the person in question finally getting sick of their own bullshit.”

 

I spent all week cleaning house, rearranging furniture, purging, cleaning out closets, donating extra stuff and filling my home with even more plants. I cared for my garden, I slept in when I could and I probably drank way too much beer. I’m not trying to reinvent the wheel, I just want to let go of the blockages and find my place.


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Word of the week

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I was scrolling and came across a video of two mums talking about what was actually normal, there’s no manual or unfiltered script for what is normal as a mum. They proceeded to make me feel so much better about my me-ness and when they mentioned it’s ok to cry multiple times a day and even do so in public I was immediately transported to yesterday, after school in the grocery store with my big girls. They were having meltdowns and legitimately crying over the fact I was making them eat veggies for dinner, I hadn’t even mustered the energy to cook them yet and I was already getting a kickback. I can’t remember exactly what I said to them, but the gist was, “Oh my dear God, you’re lucky you have healthy, organic food, a mum who scrapes her ish together just enough to cook and sometimes do the dishes and so many kids don’t have either!” I may have managed to speak it as opposed to scream it too! I hear a sweet voice from the check out isle next to ours say, ” You’re an awesome mom”! I fucking lost it and started balling, then Amelie did, but I think it was because she didn’t want to eat the damn mushrooms, and it hit me so hard I could barely breathe. I have been doing this whole thing on my own for a year, exactly. There aren’t tap outs, ass smacks or “Babe you did a good job tonight” at my place and to have a stranger outright compliment me pierced my heart in such a beautiful way I couldn’t hold it together anymore. I don’t even know what my response to her was, other than to put my hand on my heart and mouth thank you, while I proceeded to break down like a toddler.

 

How often do we call out the beautiful things we see? Do we even comprehend how merely complimenting the smallest, most insignificant thing we see can drastically change someones day or week? That sweet woman did more for me in those few words than anyone has for me in a long time! It stirred something in me, a camaraderie a connection, we have to stick together, women, mothers, feeling, breathing, caring people. Our flaws and lost shit moments are what make us human and when we start trying to cover those things up we become no more than automated robots. Let’s be open and raw, let’s be loving, let’s have each others back!


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No one is going to fucking save you

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Maybe I had a moment, or a few moments, tired as shit, washing dishes and cursing to myself about how I’m the only one who does the fucking dishes. I have these brief seconds of wishing, daydreaming, that some knight, tall and sexy, come up behind me, wraps his arms around me and slides a glass of wine in my hand and tells me to park my sexy ass on the couch so he can wash the dishes for me. Then I wake up to an alarm I’ve been hitting the snooze on for 10 minutes, screaming like a banshee for the midgets to get ready for school.

Moral of the story, there’s no knight and a constant sink full of dishes that are all my responsibility.  It’s the old story of wanting help but getting frustrated when they don’t do it right so you just do everything yourself. The fact is, it’s easier, saner and tidier to just do everything myself. I still don’t trust people not to butcher my heart, I still don’t trust my heart to pick the right ones, and I have no fucking clue how badly my being alone is fucking up my kids. I don’t think I’m Wonder Woman at all, but I do feel the weight, and it’s fucking heavy. I’m not complaining, I know this is just how things are, temporary as all of this is, and they will get better and they might get worse, but I’m trying to stay in the present moment. Aching for connection, touch, deep conversation and cuddles, but content to call the shots.

The resentment I used to feel when I had a partner unable to live up to what my crazy heart/brain wanted, needed, expected has all but fallen away. If something doesn’t get accomplished I know exactly who to blame! No one is coming to save me, I don’t need to be saved, nor do I want to be. I’m afraid of unleashing this weight on anyone, I’m afraid of what being myself will do to anyone, I’m impulsive, spontaneous, wild and loving, I need my freedom but desperately want someone man enough to walk by my side, to hold my hand, occasionally check me, but always love, support and lovingly shake their head at me. I don’t want to wait six months for love, no matter how perfect those two days were.  I have to suffer the consequences either way.

I’m taking this armor off because it’s heavy, My skin is thick, almost bulletproof at this point, true to my sign, I have a shield and a bow and arrow. I let all of this out not for pity, I have no use for that, not for attention, not for anything other than opening this scarred, bruised yet full heart just a little more. Nothing is perfect, the highlight reel we see or chose to project, there are screams, falls, face plants dodged bullets and scrapes. It’s human and it’s life.