This week can suck it. I wasn’t planning to write about it because I don’t want to be adding to the mess that everyone else is dealing with. But that was when I was still feeling crappy and didn’t have anything good to say. Today I feel better. Not 100%, but better and I’ll take it.

Without boring you with too many details, the gist is that I’ve really been feeling discouraged lately. Wether it’s the reports about our environmental demise, the overwhelming obstacles for fair and complete public education, traffic or the ridiculousness that creates short tempers within my family, I’ve just really been struggling to see the light.

I think this happens to everyone at different times in our lives, though I do notice this trend among my peers right now. We are at a time in our lives when we feel ready to see the fruits of our labor. With our kids becoming more independent and about a dozen years of pouring out ourselves into our families and communities, we are hoping to feel some love, or, at least, to see some progress. I didn’t feel that this week. I haven’t felt that in a while.

I envy those women that remain positive and chipper, regardless of how many time waster meetings they’ve attended and empty promises they’ve noted. They are giggly and smiley and always quick to point out the good, even while ignoring the glaring bad. At the same time, I find those women entirely unhelpful as an example to me unless they can find the strength to also say “Today has been a shitty day” when that sentence rings true.

That’s why I’m writing this. The last three weeks I have been feeling incredibly low. Black hole low. Reading my old poetry low. Barely able to sit through a meeting, would rather be alone in the garden, road rage, faking it kind of low. Though there were moments in there that were definitely good (a new job, sweet times with my family, dog walks and sunshine on my face while talking with friends to name a few), I could not shake the feeling of hopelessness. Not much helped. At all. But a few things did.

So, I thought, maybe you want to know what did help even though it might not be what I thought I needed.

Cleaning

Sometimes, when I feel everything else is out of control, I know I can only control my immediate environment. By tidying my house or my car, I can clear my head a bit and I get to see the improvement right away. I literally stand in my just mopped kitchen and say “Well, at least the kitchen looks good.” I have heard that cleaning is a sign of anxiety. My house stays pretty clean…

My Parents

I will turn 48 this summer but yesterday when I told my dad over the phone what was bothering me, he really understood. He parented me, for lack of a better word. A few jokes, a few stories and a lot of sympathy worked wonders. I have had times like this with my mom too, but yesterday my dad came through and it was really nice to be understood. Like everybody else, I tend to underestimate my parents. But who can you rely on to love you unconditionally and still nudge you in the right direction more than the people who have been doing that the longest? Plus, it was a good reminder to my own parenting skills. Listen more, talk less.

Crying

I really did not cry much when I was a kid. I had this messed up idea that it was weak. But these days I am finding that crying comes easy and really does make me feel better. More often than not, the tears threaten during conversations with people I care deeply about and are from a desire to fix something I cannot fix. or provide answers I cannot give. But I’m usually able to hold the tears off until I’m sitting at my desk and have a quiet revelation about where my hurt is coming from. It’s a great release, giving in to that sadness. Taking off that armor, even for just a few minutes is sometimes exactly what I need to catch my breath and feel lightened enough to get back up and move forward.

Honesty

My therapist tells us that the honest, hard conversations bring us closer to each other. In theory, I know she is right, but actually having those conversations where I dig in and say what I really feel is nearly the equivalent of letting a snake slither up my leg while someone else tells me it will be fine. I hate it and all my natural instincts tell me to walk away chanting “This does not matter” to myself like a Stepford wife. To be fair, lots of things we argue about in my house truly don’t matter. Same for things that irk me at work. But the things that matter, they are like a funk in the air that will not go away. Sometimes I feel like more than half my conflicts or contributions in life start by my stating the obvious. The metaphorical “It smells like a dump in here” But it’s not fun to be that person. It’s easy to write off someone who focuses in on a problem as an ineffective downer. That would be true if I didn’t back up my observations with possible solutions. Someone has to focus on the problem in order to solve it. We can’t all be satisfied admiring the wallpaper in a place that smells like rot.

I’ve come a long way in my delivery of criticism. If it’s not my committee or my project, I’m usually, truly, in research mode or just nodding my pretty little head. But when it’s my name tied to a result I try step into the honesty sideways and make it clear that my goal is to help. I am not always successful at this. The jury is still out regarding my results this week, in fact. But it helped me to be direct and honest because that’s progress, even if I am the only one who sees it.

Nature

I wasn’t joking when I said I would rather be alone in the garden for a few weeks than doing anything else. I told my dad yesterday that “people in general” are getting to me and he understood. I love it when people tell me they recharge by looking at nature. That’s cool. But my goal in retreating to my garden is to NOT be around people. My roses do not talk back. I have tools, I have pretty things to plant and I am getting things done out there. I get dirty, I don’t mind. I don’t finish, that’s ok. I play some music, I rake up stuff. Nature is not people. If you are tired of people, take a break from people. For me, it helps.

Missing Out

(Why yes, I did name this section as a smack back to todays vile FOMO that has a hold on our youth, thank you for noticing.) If you feel like you never have time to think or visit with your family in peace or complete an enjoyable project, you are not alone. If you feel like all you do is drive around from one appointment to the next, this is probably true. I have more than a few friends who have schedules that are far more demanding than mine. I used to interpret their ability to attend all these meetings as evidence of my failures and their accomplishments. But in the last few years it’s become clear to me how short life is and that my definition of a life well lived is not the same as everyone else’s. I am not the kind of person who will lay on my death bed feeling that I should have attended more meetings or school seminars. What most people regret is not spending time with her family or appreciating what they have. So, I Marie Kondo my schedule when I am feeling overwhelmed.

For example, this week I had around eleven appointments of one kind or another that had to do with my kids or my husband or work. That is likely a regular week for most parents. This doesn’t count school pick up and drop off, dog walks, dinner, breakfast or the pile of papers, emails and work To Do items that await me. Tonight alone, I have two important meetings, one Taekwondo class to get my kid to and from and dinner to make. If you are reading this and think that you can do it all, all you are going to get from me is a slow hand clap. I used to do everything because I could. But now I know I shouldn’t. Something, someone has to miss out.

I prioritize by what will allow me to accomplish the most for the least amount of time. One of my meetings have nothing to do with me. The decisions to be made should and will be made my someone else and judging from the lack of email replies I get from them, they will not notice my absence. The other meeting is introductory – a new committee of which is related to a long term goal of mine, but not at all the most effective path for said goal. They will likely send out a summary of these introductions.

The taekwondo is actually pretty important. My kid gets exercise and is quickly working his way to his next belt. He works off steam and it helps him be more relaxed at school where things haven’t been so great for him lately. He missed one class already this week because of a schedule change.

Lastly, dinner. I’m going to make it. Im going to sit down with my kids because I need to feel that connection with them even if it’s over a shared love of frozen artisan bread rolls.

If I’m an important part of a board or committee, I’m there. If my husband is around to fill in at dinner or help with chauffeuring, I try to pull it off. But I no longer fly around flashing my bulletproof bracelets because all it does is wear me out and make me less effective as a human being.

Choose Joy

This. This right here is good. This is my taekwondo. Writing helps me organize my thoughts. I started this post this morning and have stopped six times. Writing isn’t a hobby for me. It’s a necessity. It’s my exercise for my brain. If I could give one gift to everyone I know, it would be the knowledge of what brings them joy and helps keep them mentally healthy.

I think the key to fighting back against the feeling that your hard work is in vain is enjoying the things in life that aren’t work at all. Canceling a meeting and walking your dog or ordering pizza and watching The Voice or spending time in the bath instead of the shower – these aren’t ways to take a break from life, these things are life. They’re the good parts. They cost nothing.

Be generous to yourself with how you use your time. It really is your choice if you spend more time on the things that make you crazy sad instead of the things that calm and renew you. You could turn off the news. You could say No to the 7 PM meeting. You could wear comfy shoes and eat a piece of chocolate and accept that you don’t have all the answers. You are not being graded on this. In fact, dare I say it? Joy isn’t found – it’s made. One choice at a time.