I have come to the conclusion that my body (and my brain in particular) is a machine. Not one of those well oiled powerful engine types, but more like the copier that keeps jamming. One minute, it can be organized and fully functional, teaching an amazing lesson, mentally keeping everyone’s schedule organized, planning and ordering Christmas present months ahead of time. The next minute, we are running out of toilet paper, grabbing fast food on the way home from work because I totally forgot we had some important evening event in 30 minutes, and tripping over a laundry basket that have been sitting in the kitchen for a week. My brain functions normally for a while, but I know the next paper jam is just around the corner.
For the last 3 weeks, I have gone to the grocery store and bought a large pack of toilet paper. I couldn’t remember if we needed it, and figured we were probably low. Of course only three people are living at home, and we’re out of the house for the vast majority of every weekday. My closet is now so full of toilet paper I am having a hard time figuring out where I’m going to store food. I reminded myself this morning that when I went shopping I needed to stop buying toilet paper.
This past weekend, I spent hours writing detailed lesson plans for the week and then printed out an original copy of everything to make sure I had everything I needed. Then, I realized I had completely forgotten about my “big picture” plans, planned for the wrong lesson on Thursday, and needed to hurriedly make copies before the students arrived.
My body is a wreck. My feet are in constant pain, and the doctor’s plan of stretches and orthotics have only been able to minimally reduce the pain. I’ve dropped 20 pounds, but I still have to limit sitting and standing throughout my day. I get insomnia, because my brain is determined to run throughout the night when I want it to just SHUT UP!. Jay and I are talking about retirement communities like we’re 80 years old.
I think think my brain is just on overload much of the time. I can’t figure out how to slow it down, slow my life down. I’m tired, but my wheels are spinning and momentum is driving it. I want to hit the brakes, but at the same time, I don’t really want to stop. And that’s the real problem.
I don’t know what makes me feel this need to do all the things I do. Most of what I do is mental work (planning for the needs of a class, organizing my families schedule and our home, writing, etc.) so it is my brain that takes the largest hit (followed of course my my feet, because I’m a teacher). I need to want to let things go, but I cling to them like a baby who doesn’t believe that if they would just let go of that pacifier they are holding on to so dearly, they could actually drink that bottle of milk they desperately want and need. I cling and strive, and I need to slow down.
Four years ago, I gathered a group of friends and asked them to evaluate my life. To tell me what they thought my strengths were, to be honest about my weaknesses, and to evaluate the choices I was making about the way I spent time. I wanted more from my life, and I asked for help. They lovingly sat down and told me that my plate was too full, and I needed to drop all non-essentials. I begrudgingly listened to them. And they were right. Unfortunately, in the last four years, I’ve allowed my life to fill up again. I need to sit down and do this again, but I suspect I could do it without my tribe. I could sit down and figure out who I am and what I want to be doing and stop spinning my wheels to please other people. I need the courage to change. I need to chose this and that is hard.
I was inspired to do this meeting of friends four years ago when I read Restless by Jennie Allen. I highly recommend this book. I’d read it again if I had the time.