"I Felt Trapped in a Machine of My Own Making"

***First of all, holy smokes, y'all.   Sunday's post is over 7K views.  That might not be a lot to some of you more experienced bloggers, but it's absolutely crazy to this little ol' mom blogger.   Thank you for visiting, friends, and welcome to the Circus!  Take your time and make yourself at home!***

The other day, I was listening to a TED radio hour podcast while working on my day-to-day chores.  It's a guilty pleasure of mine - when no one is around or the kids are happy and playing, I will plug in an earphone and listen to a podcast of my own choosing.   This episode was titled "Comfort Zone" and it was from way back in April.   During the podcast, they were speaking with Tim Ferriss, an entrepreneur and podcaster in his own right.   I was mindlessly completing my tasks, listening with half an ear, when something he said brought me to a standstill:

"I felt trapped in a machine of my own making."

I seriously froze.   I'm pretty sure that my hands even froze in the air, mid-task.   This simple sentence resonated deep within me, all the way down to my core.

How many of us feel the same way?  Trapped in a machine of our own making?

The monotony of daily life.   The endless loads of laundry and chores to complete.   The taxiing our kids from one activity to another.   Maybe even a job that we hate.   A schedule that's causing us to rush through the day, exhausted by bedtime, and not even really paying attention to what's around us?

Maybe it's the machine of social media - always having to be more, to do more, to compete.  

A grinding machine, constantly whirring, constantly buzzing, constantly pushing you to your limit.

If you're anything like me, it is definitely a machine of your own making.

One thing builds on top of another: one commitment, one job, one "yes", one more hour in the office, one more activity, one less hour of sleep sacrificed to yet another chore that you ran out of time for during the day.  Before you know it, you're trapped in the machine.  

Guys, this machine does *not* care about your wellbeing, and definitely not the wellbeing of your family.

My machine was a combination one - I guess I'm really good at multitasking.   Our schedule had gotten out of control and I was spending 2+ hours a day in the car, driving kids to various commitments.  I was volunteering on multiple different fronts.   Mike's job had him working and gone like crazy (12-13 hour days, plus 24-72 hours per week on call), and we couldn't afford to take any kind of pay cut and still pay the bills.  Our health - and the health of our children - were all  suffering.

It's why we moved - it was a chance to make a clean break, and start again.   We blamed a lot of the staying home and not getting involved in things after our move on the flu season (and it was partially that - it was *so bad* near us, and the idea of getting that sick again was/is terrifying to me, and I'm already starting to feel the panic about this coming year's flu season - pray for me!), but it was also a bit of a deliberate choice on our part.    It was a way to slow down, to be truly present to each other, and recover from that machine we'd been trapped in before our move.

I'm starting to get nervous about this coming school year - a high schooler, a middle schooler, an elementary schooler, and two preschoolers.  Gymnastics and skiing.  Music lessons 3 out of 5 weekdays.  A husband who still works crazy hours, albeit better ones than the old job.    I am nervous about losing my ability to focus on my health - I've come such a long way since moving here and I'm nervous that I'm going to backslide under the new schedule.   

With a goal of being proactive, I've planned out 6 weeks of lessons, and designed a visual schedule for the little ones to hopefully get a good flow going each day.    I've ordered lunch boxes, and plan on packing lunches every night (or assigning the lunch packing to a big kid every night) to make each day be a little bit easier on me.   My goal over the next few weeks is to prep a bunch of freezer meals so I can pre-make dinners for the first few weeks of school.   Even as I try to prepare, I feel my old friend Anxiety whispering that I won't be able to do it all, I won't be able to keep the perfect schedule, that I'll fail someone: myself, Mike, the kids, heck, even the chickens.

But you know what, friends?

I will fail.   Over and over again.  I know I will.   And as that anxiety rises about not being perfect, I've been trying hard to remind myself that I will *never* be perfect, and that's okay.  Some days, we won't get all of the schoolwork done.  Some days I'll forget about dinner and we'll end up getting pizza.  Some days, I won't have time for a workout.

And that's okay.

I'm not perfect.

You see, I think perfection was the name of the machine I'd become trapped in.   I wanted so badly to be perfect - healthy dinners, kids in all.the.things that they wanted to be in.   Co-op and club attendance to counteract the "socialization" arguments.  High test scores to prove that I was the perfect homeschooling mom.  Instagram worthy house pictures.   Smiling faces at field trips.

And what it got me was perfectly sick and tired.   Quite literally.

So, friends, this year I'm not going for perfect, and I remind myself of that every time the anxiety starts to rise.

I'm going for healthy.

I'm going for happy.  

I'm going for rested.

I'm going for smiles.

I'm going for laughter.

I'm going for hugs and cuddles.

I'm going for playtime.

I'm going for actual conversations with my husband, and not just falling asleep side-by-side on the couch.  

I'm going for increased activity on my fitness tracker.  

I'm going for protected relaxation times for myself *and* my kids.

It might mean that I can't say yes to the co-ops and the field trips and the parish dinners.   It might mean that we say no to a gym meet or two.  It might mean that we stay home for the holidays.  It might mean hiring someone else to do my grading (which I've already done).  It might mean sandwiches for lunch instead of a hot meal.   It might mean cereal for breakfast.  

It might not be perfect, but it will be good.

And good enough is good enough for me this year.