Contraction and expansion

Expansion and contraction. Opposites. Going in different directions. What I feel like I’m doing right now.

On the one hand, it feels like I am going through a period of contraction. I am overwhelmed with my new role as a stay-at-home daughter. The volume of referrals ordered after my mom’s latest doctor’s appointment would have anyone’s head spinning. And that doesn’t take into account the emotional toll this new situation is taking. From a logistics standpoint, I can handle it. After all, I’ve always been the planner, the organizer, and the calendar for my family. It’s the rest of it that’s challenging.

Navigating the demand, the personality of my mom, a woman who is both fiercely stubborn and lacking self-confidence. Learning to know when it’s her stubbornness that has her do something versus when it’s her short-term memory loss making her forget she just agreed to not do that thing. Answering her question, albeit awkwardly, of “Why me?” over and over. Living in the home I’ve lived in for 10 years with my partner and knowing how hard it is for both of us to prioritize ourselves and each other with a new, dependent, member of our household.

Not feeling like I can let things sit because she’s still my mom and she used to charge me a quarter every time I left my shoes in the living room.

It’s hard to let go of your previous relationship even as you’ve completely switched roles of parent and child.

So, all these things and more weigh on me as I try to hold on to my other hats, knowing I can’t keep them all on my head anymore. It’s too much. I’m not doing what I said I would do, which means I’m failing. I’m failing myself and I’m failing others.

This feeling of contraction — the force of it — I’ve always resisted.

I’m not a quitter. I don’t give up on things. I see them through, no matter the cost.

Except, haven’t I learned this lesson already? Isn’t this the essence of my burnout two years ago? Realizing I couldn’t keep doing everything? That my body was physically revolting against me and my choices? That my mental health was frayed, the worst it’s ever been?

Why do we always refuse to learn our lessons?

Why do we say to ourselves “this time it’s different!” while listing out all the reasons why we think that’s true, deluding ourselves.

I take a breath. I still myself.

This is different now though. Because I am different.

I recognize that life is constantly changing and the things that I could commit to six months ago are not the things I can commit to now.

I have to narrow my focus. I’m in another period of contraction, straight on the heels of a previous period of contraction. All I can do is contract.

Except…that’s not entirely true and the mental gymnastics I’m doing right now is wild.

Because I’m also in the midst of an expansion — an expansion that is keeping me grounded amid this period of contraction.

If that doesn’t make any sense to you, I get it. But, as I’ve been reminding myself, two things can be true at the same time.

So I’m holding two truths. That I have to contract from many areas of my life AND to do so, I must expand in another.

And the universe is supporting that in such beautiful and serendipitous ways that I can’t help but be in awe.

Which is the point.

Being in awe.

My life only keeps getting more complicated and stressful, and yet I am in awe. I have a greater sense of self than I ever have before.

And it’s because I’m accepting that I can be contracting and expanding at the same time. That my main role right now is that of caregiver and that I am grateful I can be that caregiver, even in the midst of all of its hardship and challenges. Because while I’ve narrowed my role, I’m expanding myself.

I’m doing the thing I’ve always wanted to do for myself.

I’m writing.

And with that writing, I’m manifesting new avenues for expansion and the universe is offering it’s support and I am awed and humbled.

And it makes me feel like maybe I did actually learn my lesson from my burnout two years ago. That you have to take care of yourself, and do what feeds your soul, even amid the stress and uncertainty of whatever life throws at you.

And maybe, just maybe I won’t burn out this time around.

The Good Enough Corner

In my burnout recovery, one of the things I try very hard to let go of is perfectionism. There is no such thing as perfect, and I try to remind myself of that all the time. I’m not a perfect partner. I’m not a perfect caregiver. I’m not a perfect writer. I’m not a perfect anything. In that spirit, from time to time, I’m going to share a short story of doing something simply “good enough.”

I’ve hit the stage of our home improvement projects where I’m tired and not motivated to finish. The little things are left, like installing the handles on the cabinets or finding decor for the downstairs bathroom. One the small projects on my list has been to put up shelves in one of our bathrooms. These shelves are custom - not out of a kit. And I am not a carpenter. Neither is my husband.

The cubby where we wanted shelves is not square, which means we had to do some geometry to get the boards cut right. Are they a perfect fit? No. We had to find some brackets that would keep them up, but are they perfect for shelving? Probably not. Are the boards smooth and painted perfectly? Nope. (In fact, one board side was completely missed in the painting process.)

Was it a quick job to get them up and did I not make any mistakes (read: didn’t drill extra holes because of not having them aligned properly)? Absolutely not.

But, they are up! And functional! And I’m really proud of my “good enough” shelves.