I spent Thursday night and Friday morning in a shame spiral, unsure whether who I am is an OK person to be.
This isn’t a woe-is-me post. Just sort of a woe-is-me first sentence. I mean, it’s hard to use the words “shame spiral” without admitting it is, in fact, a touch woe-is-me. Although now I think about it, it’s a good thing I added “unsure whether who I am is an OK person to be” to describe “shame spiral” because it occurs to me that a spiral can go in two directions, either up or down, and I could have been talking about an upward shame spiral where I’m spiraling out of shame instead of a downward spiral where I’m plummeting into it, so — WHEW! — good thing we avoided that confusion!
…..
I just took a break from writing this to make myself a hot toddy** and steal some fun-sized Butterfingers from my kids’ Halloween candy because I don’t know where to go with this now that I’ve told you about the shame spiral and promised you this isn’t a woe-is-me post.
After some grounding whiskey and fortifying processed sugar, I feel like we should agree to put that whole Not Woe-Is-Me thing on temporary hold so we can go a little further with the woe before spiralling back up.
OK?
OK.
Shame spiral. Back to it.
…..
You guys, I don’t participate in shame spiraling very often these days because I’m mostly happy to be me.
After a long time and a lot of work learning to speak kindly to myself — to be the gentle friend to myself that I am to others — I like me. I’m exactly the kind of weird weirdo I want to hang out with. I like all the right cheeses. I love my neighbor. I adore my family for more minutes than I don’t. I have excellent taste in questionable vampire novels. I only sometimes want to run away to Mexico with its beautiful beaches and cheap tequila. And, although it’s still a daily struggle, I’m learning to be less dogmatic about never ending sentences with prepositions.
I’m a work in progress, in other words; wonderful and wild, magical and messy, awesome and awful, and generally OK with it all.
But Thursday and Friday were different.
Hard.
Because I let the critical voices in.
I let them pull up a chair.
And I heard them out.
Now, don’t get me wrong. A certain amount of self-evaluation is a good idea. A certain amount of listening to constructive criticism can do a world of good.
But allowing the critical voices free rein? Bad idea, friends. Bad idea.
My voices unearthed my persistent fear that maybe I am too much, after all. Too loud. Too irreverent. Too ridiculous when the world is serious. Too serious when the world needs levity. Too Jesusy. Not Jesusy enough. Too big. Too sweary. Too unfit for polite society.
And it took me hours to pull myself back together. Which is better than the days it used to take. Or the weeks it took before it took days. Or the months it took before it took weeks. But still. Still. I spent hours huddled in on myself before I shook it off. Before I reset my barometer. Before I remembered what the Quakers teach is true — that there is that of God in everyone. That of Love. That of Light. And to be on the lookout. In ourselves and each other.
I wish that was all there was to it, but shame spirals? They have aftershocks. One hit Saturday afternoon, before the Portland Area ComeUnity Group came over. You know, those groups we formed based on authenticity and vulnerability and being our real, messy selves? Yeah. THAT group was the one coming over, and, I don’t know quite how to tell you this, friends, but I cleaned. CLEANED HOUSE. I washed counters. I badgered kids into picking up clutter. I conscripted Greg into washing the couch. I BAKED so the house would smell good. Abby washed behind the toilet. I did 3 loads of dishes, 4 loads of laundry, and I scrubbed, like, half a window sill before I came to my senses and realized the window sills are a lost cause. IT WAS HORRIBLE, and it was because I was sure I wasn’t OK. I was sure I was about to be found out.
Then a group of self-described misfits arrived at my door. And I let them in. And they let me in. We ate and we drank and we talked about our lives and our fears and what makes us wish for wings that work. For friends. For the freedom to be ourselves. We saw that of Love and Light in each other. Which banished the voices of criticism. Of too much and not enough. And it was GOOD.
And so, friends, I thought I’d take this moment to ask you how you are. To ask you about the voices in your head. To ask you if you’d join us misfits in sharing a piece of yourself.
What do you LIKE about you and what do you fear? And do you KNOW yet there is that of Love and Light inside you?
………
P.S. In case you need to pull up a hot toddy for this one, here’s….
**The Very Best Hot Toddy Recipe EVER
- Heat 3/4 cup (6 ounces / 170 grams) of water to HOT hot.
- To the cup of hot water, add 1/4 cup (2 ounces / 57 grams) of honey bourbon. Or bourbon. Or whiskey. Or rum if you don’t detest rum the way I do.
- Add 1 tablespoon (12 grams) of brown sugar.
- Add 1 teaspoon (5 grams) of butter.
- Stir until sugar and butter are melted.
- Sprinkle with a dash of salt.
46 responses to “On the Shame Spiral and Making It Stop”
You put it so well. I finally had a day to myself on Monday and I spent it in a shame spiral. Not good. Feeling better today though. I don’t usually comment but I always enjoy your posts.
I know the spiral you are referring to all to well. Most days I battle between liking myself and wondering what the hell is wrong with me. It’s never easy to focus my thoughts on the good inside. Sometimes I think that maybe I’m just too critical of myself. Afterall, who knows ME better than ME. However, my husband begs to differ. He has told me on numerous occasions that I’m too close to myself to have an unbiased opinion, so it is in fact HIM who knows me better than anyone. I love for him this. He’s not one to sugar coat things, so he will tell me with brutal honesty when I’m acting crazy. Most women would be repelled by this, but I love him even more for it because he also tells me DAILY that I’m an amazing woman. That I’m beautiful. That he loves me. Which is why first and foremost, when someone asks me what I like about myself, I say I like my choice in husbands. Because clearly it was a choice to marry this incredible person. I like that I didn’t settle for less than I deserved because I nearly did with my ex.
I fear sometimes that I will let the darkness inside me take over. Some days it wins the internal battle. I melt on those days. Like a snowman in the Sahara. I crumple into a ball of emotional distress and my superman of a husband wraps me up and reminds me I’m human and not every day is going to be a good day, but there IS good scattered among the debris of bad that has taken over my attention. I fear that being too self-critical will inevitably lead to my demise, but with a supportive husband hopefully this won’t happen.
Honesty is great from the person closest to you. the one who knows you more intimately than anyone else. Your husband sounds amazing! You must be pretty amazing too to have picked him. Chin up, so you are not just staring at your boobs all day :).
I am consistently criticizing myself. Did i do enough today or not, did i help my husband enough? Did all of the kids feel my love today? Did i spend enough time with them? Does my husband get enough attention? NO, how can i rememdy that? When i am not sleeping at night, what should i do with my time? This person didnt respond to my text. What was our last convo and interaction? Did i misstep somewhere? It never quits.
I like that i always offer love and support to everyone. I also dislike that because i dont ever feel balanced. Helping one person in lieu of what…?
I am afraid of my kids not feeling loved enough, not feeling important enough. My own childhood spilling over….
I think of you often Beth, because that helps me accept myself and my flaws and keep moving with out getting too down on myself sometimes.
Can’t remember who’s original idea this was but it wasn’t mine – every time you think a thought you scrape away a layer on a neural pathway. The most frequently used paths become the most worn and easiest to access. So it is with negative thoughts. The more we think them the more we hear them in our head and the worse we feel. More reason to banish those thoughts before they start and wear away positive paths. I like that I’m a thinker and a problem solver. And that having this knowledge helps me spiritually and emotionally. Thanx for another great, real post.
Last night I fell asleep a bit nursing my daughter and woke up with start because I had the most terrible dream where I got cancer and died, and God told me it was because my husband had an important mission to accomplish on earth and I wasn’t encouraging him in the right directions, so I had to die so he could meet a wife who would be GOOD for him…..I definitely started a shame spiral with that one, until I thought to pray. I will tell you, there was a lot of ugly crying and wiping snot on my shirt-sleeve during that prayer. Then I popped open my scriptures and landed on a verse that said “The adversary hath set his hand on her most precious things” which felt like a pretty clear message that the dream was NOT any kind of revelation from my Heavenly Father. Especially since the next scripture I randomly landed on was one that relates to my church’s belief that marriage is for ETERNITY, not just earth life. Anyways, the point of all that, is that shame spirals tend to make me feel unworthy to pray, but I’ve learned that the very best way to stop them in their tracks is to pray like the world is ending.
I am facing delivering my baby soon far from home and watching a few days later as he undergoes a 6-8 hour open heart surgery. As I try to wrap my mind around leaving my young children at home with friends and family over the holidays for a month and a half and facing a mother’s worst fear, I find myself worrying about how I will be perceived as a mother. Whether I will be seen as calm and composed or frantic and hysterical. Whether or not I will overshare or be too closed off and private. Do I share pictures of my new baby or protect him in his vulnerable state? Why can’t I drop these stupid demons of self doubt and focus on my health, my babies health and how we will glorify our God through this? Instead I waste my time carefully composing facebook updates and wondering if it’s too much, not enough and how I can avoid seeing people in person because there is no way I am going to be able to carry off Peaceful and Trusting in God in person.
Oh sweet mama you are not alone! There are so many who have known this intense grief and stress. You will be the most amazing mama and the reason you will is because you want so much to be the very best thing for your baby. And you already are the very best thing. You will have good days and you will have bad days. Some days you’ll have your game face on and some days you’ll be an absolute wreck. The doctors and nurses are accustomed to this. The NICU will surround you with other mamas fighting similar fights and you will probably see other families around you falling apart at the seams, but you will also find families with prognoses far worse than your own and those very people will encourage you and bolster your faith when you’re sniffling in a waiting room. They will see the immense hope in your situation when you cannot. And it’s so sacred and beautiful.
Ask God every day to help you see His glory there because I know without a doubt those wards are sanctuaries filled to the brim with angels of light, there to help you every step. But the demons crowd in quickly if you allow them. Declare your faith out loud when you’re scared in the night. Sing Bible verse songs and speak Bible verses over your child. You can do this with Christ who strengthens you! You can! And what you gain from the next few months will become your victory song. Hold tight mama!
I am praying for you!
Totally get the shame spiral. Glad it has a name now. Mine started a few weeks ago. I walked out of church in the middle of a sermon for the first time ever. Sat in my truck and cried for what seemed forever, caught in the spiral of my doubts. I think I’m still stuck there, but it’s like a crazy ride that stops for few days but then jerks to a start again when I’m least expecting it.
Anyway, thank you dear internet friend, for being able to put in words so well how I feel. And somehow making me feel better in doing so.
I spent 8yrs in a _bad_ marriage. I finalized my divorce 2wks ago. I spent 8yrs putting _every_single_emotion_ in a box and not feeling it. I’ve spent 1.5yrs keeping them there because I’ve forgotten how to open it but am also terrified of what would happen if I did. This week….today…I think the box sprung a leak…I’m feeling quite a bit lost.
Single parent/oldest daughter/full-time employee/volunteer/girlfriend/tutor….etc I think the days are OVERWHELMING and the nights are lonely. I’m tired.
Hang in there, Nicole! Although it doesn’t feel like it right now, things WILL get better. I spent 12 years in a bad marriage and lost custody of my children because the judge was going along with a trend at the time of giving custody of the kids to any father who asked for custody as a way to counteract deadbeat dads. The fight for my children continued for ten years. Many times I wondered if it wouldn’t just be better to end it all and be done with the pain and struggle. Don’t give in to those feelings. Hug your child/ren. Focus on the fact that you really ARE better off being out of that bad marriage even if independent life is a major struggle. And get through these days one moment at a time. I promise you it will be well worth it in the long run. Some day you will look back on these difficult days and sigh a big sigh of relief that they are finally behind you. And you will realize just how strong you are.
I just changed my anti-anxiety meds, and am in that place where the old ones have worn off and the new ones haven’t kicked in yet. And I am crying at everything. Crying because my husband didn’t want to watch TV shows with me. Crying because my kid forgot to bring his homework home. Crying at things that haven’t actually happened. And I yelled at my husband and slammed some doors and went to go sit in my corner with a glass of wine and mulled over how horrible everything was, and how I sucked, and how everybody else in my family sucked, and I should just go get a hotel room for the night, but it was too expensive. And then i couldn’t stand it anymore and ran back up to my husband and blurted out “ifeelcrazyandidon’tknowhowtofixitcanyoupleasehelpme? And he just opened up his arms and held me tight as the crazy continued.
And it was better. Granted, the next day, I cried because I forgot to bring a piece of coffee cake to work and i REALLY WANTED THAT COFFEE CAKE DAMNIT, so i’m still spiraling a bit. But glad I have arms to hold me.
I thought of you when I was busy cleaning my house for my PARENTS to come to breakfast only hours after being at your house…you’d think they would be used to my Precious Messes…but apparently I still worry about it…
I’m constantly doubting, questioning. I am afraid that it shows and my daughter sees it. I want her to grow up a balanced individual, but I often don’t feel balanced myself.
As you say it often takes a while but I do manage to claw my way back up.
I don’t really have a community. I have been praying for a mentor or someone who I could share with, but have not been so lucky. I’m hoping one day I will have that.
Demonstrating to your daughter how to process and achieve a personal definition of balance is WAYYYYYYY more important than her seeing you balanced all the time.
Hang in there! You are a wonderful example to your daughter – in all circumstances!
One of the things I like best about myself is my ability to stay positive about things, or at least quickly identify a fix for whatever issue has popped up. Keep moving forward is my motto. To all of you who are feeling discouraged, 2 things. 1) You’re still awesome, even if you’re feeling behind, undone, or not enough. 2) I’m like a Clydesdale of hope: you can hitch yourself to my wagon and I’ll pull you along until you get your feet underneath you and can walk on your own again. 🙂 Hugs to you all. Hang in there! There are people who love you and root for you, and that’s worth something, even if we’re strangers on the internet.
I love that expression, Katie, “I’m like a Clydesdale of hope: you can hitch yourself to my wagon and I’ll pull you along until you get your feet underneath you and can walk on your own again.” I think that will be a new aspiration for me, to be a Clydesdale.
Yesterday for part of my internship I attended an all day lecture from an amazing speaker/doctor on Trauma, how it affects the brain, and children. It was FULL of AWESOME information! So much great information, all day! I saw myself and my boys ALL OVER in that information, and it made our lives make sense. This is good in a way, but devastating in another. The thing is, the speaker didn’t really talk about how to heal. He did say it was possible, and in fact this is what he does, work with these families/children. But I left wondering if there was hope for us, for my boys and I. I left with a realization of the huge burden that my husband took on when he married me and became dad to these two boys of mine. One that he admittedly didn’t know was so huge until after the fact. He is wonderful, and hangs in there with us, but it gets too heavy for him sometimes. So I’ve spent the past day and a half in that spiral, knowing that there is light at the top, just not really knowing how to get there. I want to answer the question what do I like about myself, because it’s a start toward the light. I like that I look for the light in others. I like that I am doing differently with our baby girl, and that I’m trying to heal the rest of us the best I know how today. Love to you, Beth.
I’m right there with you Diana, though it sounds like I may be further down the road, because I can assure you that healing DOES happen! In fits and spurts, but the healing is real. I don’t know how your story will play out, but if you’re having a hard time finding hope right now, I will hope on your behalf!
Beth,
You are precisely the right kind of weirdo. And cheesy vampire novels are fabulous.
Thanks for being so real and wonderfully welcoming.
Oh the voices have been so very loud for a while now. I constantly tell myself how I can’t measure up to others around. My weight is a constant struggle. I tell myself how disgusting I look, that my husband is disgusted by me but too afraid to tell me, that my kids are embarrassed by me, that people at church don’t want to be my friend because I don’t look like them. These are lies I tell myself on loop. If anyone puts themselves down about their weight I would never stand for it but somehow these lies feel like truths and I can’t let them go. I have many other things I whisper to myself in my mind but this one is the loudest.
Ah, the IBSC (Itty Bitty Shitty Committee). I have had one all my life. Their voices are much quieter now, but it took plenty of therapy and then helping my husband battle stage four cancer over the last two years (so far, cancer lost) to do that- I don’t recommend the latter. We just take all the silver linings we can find and that is one of mine. Nothing like being clobbered with “we’re talking life or death here, what the hell does THAT matter?!” But in the midst of it I remember those days when I would compound the spiral with, “WHAT is my problem?! He is fighting cancer and I am worried about my thighs?! My house?!” I recognize now that a piece of that shame spiral was about control, trying desperately to control SOMETHING in the midst of things feeling so out of control, which is how cancer feels. It is a security breach one doesn’t really entirely get over we are finding. I so empathize with what I recognize as shame reactions in others (adults and kids alike)- recoil, lashing out (often a first defense against that pain and vulnerability), revisionist history (denial of a mistake made or a poor choice). This being human can be so hard and unpredictable. I find empathy is so key, first for myself, then, like concentric rings, sending it out into the world. I love this animation of a Brene Brown TED talk… to me this is the key to dealing with shame and so many things: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1Evwgu369Jw
I think Itty Bitty Shitty Committee would make a fabulous socially awkward dish towel! Love it!
I didn’t want to carve pumpkins this year. And I felt less than because of it. But, I swear, I didn’t want to. I didn’t want to deal with getting pumpkins, covering surfaces with plastic and helping four kids wield sharp objects to make triangles in a vegetable. But I did. Because I have a belief that I only get one shot at creating this childhood for my kids. A childhood that will shape their whole lives. A childhood that will define them, how they raise their kids and how they navigate the world. And if I skipped pumpkin carving this year they would not have that memory. They wouldn’t be able to pull the pumpkin carving memory card as adults if I skipped it this ONE year. We had to carve pumpkins for the sake of our kids and grand kids. So I sent my wife to Trader Joes to get four pumpkins. I dug out the pieces of various carving sets and the dullest knives I could find and armed my kids. My oldest. 14. Girl child. Began to write “screw” in big bubble letters. I looked at the word for a moment. How ridiculous the word screw looked in bubble letters and how I missed seeing her name in bubble letters. But there it was. Screw in big bubble letters. I asked what she was doing. She proudly stated she was going to carve “screw patriarchy” on her pumpkin. While a million responses flew through my head, my youngest questions what screw means while my next to youngest questions patriarchy. I didn’t want to carve pumpkins. I swear I didn’t want to. I told my girl child she could not carve “screw patriarchy” on her pumpkin. She begins her rant about feminism and how we, her lesbian parents, don’t understand. She is 14. Did I mention that? And she tries on identities like clothing. Putting one on. Twirling and looking at herself in the mirror. Discarding it on the floor. Reaching for the next identity to prance around in. Right now, her two favorite outfits are feminism and atheism. Since I nixed her feminism idea she decided to carve the atheist symbol on her pumpkin. But, the symbol is linear and she cut the lines to close together and it all fell in on itself. With some help from a brother. But mostly because of the way it was carved. I. Did. Not. Want. To. Carve. Pumpkins. My wife is a chaplain. She got out toothpicks and worked alongside our daughter to painstakingly put the pieces of the atheist symbol back together. And it looked good. And it glowed on Halloween. And then the kids wanted to roast the seeds and I said hell no. I am not pulling seeds out of pumpkin guts and cooking them. Go to bed. And I attempted to do what I wanted to do all night, drink wine and watch Modern Family. But our daughter wanted to have a conversation about religion and how she misses god. So we talked. Past bedtime. And we will see what outfit she wears in the morning. I didn’t want to carve pumpkins, but we did. Out of a notion of what childhood should look like. But carving this year included conversations I didn’t expect and a Christian parent drawing alongside her teen daughter to repair the atheist symbol. Not the memory I was going for but I will take it. Gratefully. I will take it.
Oh, Shelby. As the “B” half of an LBGT couple (my wonderful partner is “T” and “L”, with a 15 year old feminist daughter and two wonderful feminist sons, I feel you. I didn’t feel like trick or treating due to a blinding migraine and freezing cold rain out there, so I let my middle son go with neighbors, let the girl child go to an indoor party down the street, and let my bundled up youngest(an Aspie)follow an elaborate trail of glow sticks through the yard to 16 carefully set up stations of hidden loot. Then I went inside and toughed it out until 11 PM when I could pick up my daughter, return home to greet the returning middle son, oversee the candy trading, and finally – finally! – take high grade medication and let my eyes glaze over.
The main difference between you and me is that I would have TOTALLY let my kid put “Screw Patriarchy” on a pumpkin. But then, I let her go to the party in normal clothing holding a big sign that said “Nudist on Strike”, so my parenting style is questionable at best…
Hang in there, Momrades.
I really love the nudist on strike costume idea.
Me too! Going to have to remember that one for the future!
Thank you for supporting your daughter in her ever changing identities. Letting her find herself is so precious and frustrating.
Thank you Beth. Just. Thank you.
The Mean Voices are a little too loud at the moment, and have been for a while.
I fear being all wrong, and never-quite-right for anything & anyone. And that everyone can see that there’s something not quite right with me.
That’s what the mean voices are saying at the moment.
I look around our house, yard, whatever, and feel like crying at all the failures and mess I can see.
I hope that I love my kids enough, and more importantly, that they know I love them.
Oh, and Beth. Your timing is perfect for me, in Australia. 🙂
So a shame spiral? That’s what it’s called. My father and mother just told me I was being over controlling, needy, ridiculous. I like shame spiral much better.
I’m always worried about how messy my house is. As in they will judge my parenting and value of a stay at home mom of 5 sometimes 7 (fostering a 17 year old and her 9 month son) by the degree I keep my hero use and hero use of well I have cleaned myself and my children. I always feel guilty not cooking a huge well balanced dinner.
Truth is I live in Portland Oregon. It is always raining here. My floor always looks like crap! I live in a constant cycle of physical pain and the stress from of it all has caused huge amounts of anxiety issues. I couldn’t leave my house for three months. Most people say to get over it. I cant. I have to be it to control. I don’t know how not to!
Long story short I need more wine or all mounts hot totti! STAT!
My high points are reading your blog knowing I’m not alone here in this rain dark cold city! Is summer coming back. I miss it! I need a girl group like yours I think, that sounds nice. Adult human interaction with women, who knew such a thing even existed?!
I’m grateful that we have the words “shame spiral” to name this thing, because it is way better than what my sister and I used to call, which is the high-velocity vortex of death, traumotion and disastraphe. Shame spiral sounds like it could be made of paper. Like a mobius strip.
Can you tell that humor is my coping skill of choice?
That and, like you, liquor and chocolate. Oh and Buffy. Lots of slaying, witticisms, and cheezy bad guys.
So I’m with you. Waving. Its dark here, where I am, in lots of ways. But you are a wobbly lantern light and I adore you.
I always feel either like I’m too much or not enough.
Things had gotten better… I was trying to focus on my family… say “no” more often… you know.. not wear myself so thin that I’m good for no one. Then I started blogging!!
It started out innocent… something fun I could start and finish and it stay finished… this feeling of satisfaction I’ve not felt since I quit my job to be at home with my little birds (kids)
But I’m realizing that even in the area of enjoyment I put pressure on myself to justify how my time is being used… am I being valuable to others… and if I feel like I’m doing something just for me I feel selfish. But if I don’t take some time for me I feel drained… there is little peace in my mind. So with the blog, I am now fighting against comparing myself to other bloggers… their success… their importance to others… their more validating evidence for spending time writing.
So now my voice in my head not only include negative… comparison words around physical people but around internet people too… and all I truly want is to be valuable… useful… and at peace!!
I suck at housework. I like to write, i like to read to my kids. I’ll do the necessary chores, but I will never enjoy it, and I will never have the tidy house that i THINK stay at home moms should have. And I like myself because I can finally say that, and not feel like a failure. I can just feel like me. Finally.
I’m in therapy, which seems momentarily to have made my critical voices louder. I’m trying to change the rules I live by and it’s making me nervous and I’m trying to get myself to stop, I guess. I’m pretty afraid, but I’ve done this before and have hope that it will be healing. It’s so hard to remember to tell the truth about myself when I get into that fearful fight or flight state, but I’m trying, often minute by minute. I felt so stable three months ago. Now I’m trying to be ok with the mess I am.
It’s the mess that makes us beautiful. I think that is always so, but it’s also the hardest thing to accept.
It’s just the hardest thing to try and change ourselves for the better. So scary to become fresh and new. Be brave, Elizabeth, and you will get back to that place of solid ground. Lots of luck to you!
I’m not sure you want to meet the voices in my head, but if you’re critical voices have left they’d be in good company to come on by and hang out with mine. Mine are a steady stream of judgement and pointing out my failures, mixed with a strive for perfection (which is the haute couture of fear, according to Elizabeth Gilbert) and a grandiose assumption that I am responsible for the happiness of everyone around me.
But when I’m not having coffee with and being followed around by the fear monger posse of voices I… Well, I guess I’ll let you know when that happens.
I am really sorry I didn’t get to be one of the misfits at the table this weekend, though I would have said too much and then not enough and judged myself for all of it on the long drive home, so it may be better for everyone that I missed it.
But once in a while I’m not too loud, I’m honest without being awkward, and funny without being too sarcastic. I’m often a good mama, and sometimes accidentally a good wife, and I’ve been told I’m a good friend, when I’m not being too advice give-y.
I’m not sure that answers your questions or whatever, but your honesty is beautiful, magical, so I thought I’d throw my messy stuff up there, just to balance you out. Thanks for being you, Beth, and for creating this ComeUnity.
Oh Stacy, I think your voices & my voices must hang out together. You have verbalised exactly how I was feeling, but couldn’t think what I felt or how to put it into words. Thank you! And hugs! And I’m sure you’re neither too much nor too little, but just right. (which sounds a little like goldilocks…) xx
Thank you, Lulu!
I think these voices have a gang spot where they meet while we are sleeping and plot together what to tell us next.
Hugs back to you!! And we could all use a bit more goldilocks. =)
I AM JUST DONE. Run in the streets stark naked screaming as though i was running fron the zombies style done. Or at least that is what I am doing in my head. My house is over ran with the undone things and sadly it seems to be the season family stops by and of couree never fails to let me know how much id undone. On a side note I think I need a sign on my front door that says yes I know i have housework to do and unless you plan to do it do not tell me about it. So of course i feel even more crummy about my short comings. My kids seem to be extra clingy lately which is so sweet and so special and wont last for very long. But but still it dos not in any way help get anything done at all. And leads to no time to breath or try to think. Even the one time I locked the bathroom door the just stood on the other side banging and crying it was actually more annoying then if i had left it unlocked and they came in like everyother time. Basically i am feeling the wreck. It will pass I know just having a hard time shaking it this time.
Savana you you have such a big heart. I can feel it in your words and the way you poured your heart out without pausing for breath. I am sending you a hug and wishes for a few minutes of peace and stillness tomorrow. Your kiddos and family are very lucky to have you.
I can not explain how sweet and kind and exactly what I needed to hear. Thank you Stacy. I know letting go of perfection striving is hard but when I was very little think like 4 or 5 I picked out and got a sruffed bear. He was my favorite ever he was the prettiest greyish blue. When we got home from the store i was telling him how much he would love his new home and showing him around. So of course he had to meet my dad during that introduction my father noticed he was missing an eye and the stitching for his mouth was very lose. So of course he wanted to return the bear for an unbroken one. I of course was devastated but he was insistent that in the morning we must return him. So I went to bed sad but thoughtful. In the morning before going i said to my dad but its his missing eye and silly mouth that i picked him for because only my bear will look like this. His broken mistakes are what make him special. I think the point of me sharing that long story was simply to say that imperfections are exactly what make us special and are projects beautiful.the imperfections cause uniqueness.
I agree with you so much, Savana. I am SUCH a perfectionist, and even though I know how much better life is when we let go of it, I still struggle daily with giving myself some room to be human.
I LOVE your sweet story, and I truly hope you got to keep the bear, just as he was, beautifully unique, and special BECAUSE of his imperfections, just like you are.
I hope today is looking brighter for you!