I read a book by Donald Miller, who is a seriously gangster writer. I’d read his grocery list to be honest. Anyways, a few years ago, he wrote a book called A million miles in a thousand years. Highly recommend. And in this book he talks about big moments in your life. You know those moments. The moments that we take pictures of, post about, brag about and hang up on our walls. Graduation, child birth, parties, New Years, new cars, new jobs, and new pets. But what he also talked about is the time in between those big moments. He says, that’s where life happens. In the space between the high peaks.
At this very moment, I’m sitting indian style (can we still say that?) in my back yard. It’s 8:07 pm on a Monday. The sun has just set and the sky is a beautiful bluish pink and orange. My daughter is currently making some red neck style swing set up with a rope, an old hammock and the sea grape tree.
Nothing miraculous happened today.
Kids went to school. I went to work. Came home. Went for a run. Did laundry. Now sitting in my back yard.
But this is my life. And I’m happy with that. I’ve written two blogs recently that I didn’t post because they are like forever long. And in them, I talk about the struggles I’ve been facing. And the heartache. And the big events that I’ve spent months looking forward to. My cousin got married, and I was the maid on honor for it on April 10. My dad got married in Vegas on the 22nd and I just returned from 5 days away last week. Another cousin passed away due to a slew of other things. Happy and sad things have been hurled my way. Lots has been going on.
It’s nice to have things to look forward to. It’s nice to have something to plan and save for and arrange our schedule around. But what I’m starting to find joy in is the everyday.
The Spectacular Now.
The nights of cereal for dinner and Harry Potter reruns. Laundry piles that need to be folded, but not today! There’s always always ALWAYS going to be something else to do. A new chore. And old chore. A bill. A party. A birthday or a wedding or deadline. They are unavoidable and part of life. And it’s cool. But I don’t want my life to feel mundane in the space in between lifes BIG events. The space in between is when real life happens. I want there to be growth and warmth and love and simple pleasures. Like warm tea. A flirty text. A beautiful sunset. A mosquito bite. Chipped nail polish. Ran out of laundry soap so the load gets washed with hopes of the hot water getting out those stains. (Fingers crossed!) My grocery list. A “Daily Dose of Handsome” snap shot of my son. Me and my daughter making finger shadows on the wall and singing “Raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens” from The Sound of Music. It’s the car rides together after I pick them up from school and conversation as we sit in traffic. The glow from the computer screen as the kids do their homework. Watching them lean down and have the cat rub her face with theirs in a familiar way. Or how they slurp up spaghetti noodles and have tomato sauce stains on their cheeks.
These are the moments I want to remember.
There’s that saying “Don’t sweat the small stuff”. And to a certain extent, I agree. But there a lot of small things I want to sweat! I want to surround myself with life’s little nuances. There are a lot of things I want to go through. That I want to endure. I want it to interweave and leave a mark because that’s where life happens. Real life. My life. My life is happening, right here, right now. I don’t want to live it, waiting for a new addition to add to a highlight reel.
I remember when I married, that I made myself so small. And I thought its what I should do. As a wife. As a mom. And as friend. To pretend I was content with needing nothing for myself. And I’m sad to say, I was good at it. I made my needs thin and wispy. Made myself translucent so that I didn’t cast a shadow. I figured, if I made myself so small, then my needs would be small. I had made others needs so much more important and I just kept duping myself into believing that, EVENTUALLY, I would be fulfilled. But after awhile, I felt sad. More than sad. I was empty. My needs didn’t shrink. But they did go unmet. I had started down a path and had gone down it for so long, that making myself any type of priority felt selfish. I felt needy. Like I wasn’t good enough and I should be happy with whatever I had. But in reality, all I was doing was whispering to myself that I didn’t matter. That making other people more important than myself was the right choice and I should just be happy with that and thinking about myself as anything more important than just a decoration on the wall was ridiculous.
I did nothing to satisfy any needs in my life, which had me standing on my tip toes, constantly scanning the horizon, looking for the next high point.
This month makes a year since my ex husband moved out of my house. And I don’t recognize the life I had a year a ago. I don’t recognize the manner in which I carried myself or the thoughts and actions I accepted, or the person who lived in my mind. And just to point out, this post isn’t an ex-husband bashing session. He never forced anything upon me. My choice to put myself last was mine. He was just wise enough to know to put himself first. Only problem with that is that he put himself second, third, and fourth as well. But thats no longer my life.
I’m currently standing in my kitchen, finishing this post up. Still in my running clothes. House smelling like fried chicken nuggets cause that’s the last thing I cooked. Floor needs to be mopped. Dirty dishes in the sink. But ain’t nothing being cleaned up now. The sun set awhile ago. Kids are snuggled in their beds. Dogs fed. Doors locked. And I’m about to head to bed myself. And I find joy in this. I find joy in the small crevices of my life now. I’ve learned to take pride in my accomplishments. And I’ve learned to take it on the chin or duck and cover when shit hits the fan. I’m enjoying the small parts of my life as well as the big parts. Im enjoying the hum drum of everyday cause that’s what makes the high points even better. I don’t have to look at the horizon for a special oocasion anymore. I just look down at my mismatched socks, click my heels together and say “Theres no place like home!”.
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