Ten pound weight sits on my chest. The beast. It heaves and pounds and pulls and groans at the pile of laundry, the cluttered floor, the mountain of dirty dishes, the whining one year old who is a. teething b. has an ear infection c. has the rotavirus or d. all of the above, the unfinished, one hour long math lesson that should have taken 20 minutes, the child that doesn’t want a nap and needs one so badly, the child that thinks that his sister is being bossy so he is sad and forlorn, the husband that is tired and wants to be heard and loved and appreciated and fascinating, the lack of sleep, the coffee orders and egg deliveries, garden to tend, the meal to make and the toilets to clean. Is anyone in this house listening?
The house that needs pressure washing. I need a new computer. The cards to send. The people to call. The appointments to make. The emails to respond to.
I can’t get to the dentist and it’s been a million years and teeth don’t live that long so mine will probably just fall out one day because they are tired of waiting to be cleaned. The yard. Well, it is currently covered in a giant plastic black tarp so I’m not sure why the beast is going on about that since I can’t do anything about it anyways.
But, the truth is. Beast is my pride. Beast is my agenda. Beast is my vision of what life should look like. Beast is working against the clock instead of working with it. Beast is pushing joy as far down into the box full of attitude choices as I can stuff it and choosing something that seems to ease faster but is so short lived.
I’m making choices that shut me down and turn me off and close me in. Looking at my life and the way I live it and treating it like a problem resolves nothing. I’m the one seeing struggle and not seeing the growth.
I’ve got a colorful world of energy and excitement and people surrounding me and my life is a dance. I wasn’t ever going to be a graceful ballroom dancer. That isn’t me. I want to dance barefoot in the grass in a sundress and my hair all a mess. So beast, take off. You don’t belong. I’m light footed. I’m two steppin’. I’m gonna see this tangled mess as the clippings off of a life so full it is busting at the seams.