As I am sitting here in a fever-induced state of complete indifference on just about any issue currently facing me, I am also pondering on exactly what it is that keeps me from sitting back, relaxing and realising that – just sometimes – enough is actually good enough.
I’ve always been an ambitious woman. Clever (if I say so myself) and with a strange kind of pessimism, which permanently shows me a future of worst-case scenarios unless I get into gear and move my butt into a different direction, I have always known that the only way to take charge of my life is to actually take hold of its reigns, pull them hard and steer my life into the direction it needed to go. Add to that a certain type of stubbornness with a hint of mother-induced ODD, and I’d continuously chip away at the walls hiding that little word I am chasing: perfection.
Sure, I know in the back of my mind that perfection is something I will never truly achieve, but since when has anyone ever got anywhere by accepting this for themselves? So I plough away – I frantically cook, clean (yes, husband, should you ever read this – I DO clean!), get on with my job, lay out clothes, play with the children and bring them up to be obedient, yet on the whole very independent young people.
This blog is a reflection of what I am trying to achieve. There is a reason I don’t moan on here: what would be the point of that? I hope that if you are reading this, you appreciate that the aim of my blog is not to be another mummy who admits to occasionally not coping. Instead, I am trying to be solution-driven. It’s how my mind works: I am unhappy with a situation, so how can I change it to become something better?
My family is in a state of calming down after what have been many months now of stress and tension, for one reason or another. The change from going from one, already independent, child to a new baby, the school move, the house buying process and -move, the new job, the newly-acquired driving license, a death in the family and one childminding drama after another have all taken their toll on us, me.
And it’s all caught up with me, eventually. And while I have managed to sort my head out in the last few days, my body has now started to protest.
So, what I really need to do right now is to live with ‘good enough’. It spills into every area I am trying to keep a grip on: the laundry isn’t all done for the week, the diet has been suspended for a while, the car could really do with a wash, there are a thousand things I should be doing at work, food is a quick-fix solution and I have avoided looking at my bank account as much as possible lately. But what is important, right now, is my family: my husband and both my children. And yes, I am in there somewhere, too.
It means that I had to accept this morning that taking (yet another) day off work is preferable to a complete crash a few weeks down the line, when the lack of my voice would be a lesser worry compared to everything else piling up. It means that it doesn’t matter how much else I have to do, making time for my family is infinitely more important right now, so weekends and evenings belong to us.
Otherwise, ironically, my intrinsic need for perfection will result in the total opposite and lead to failure in all areas of my life. So for now, enough is – well – enough.