I am enough.

This time of year is supposed to be filled with joy, lights and everything merry; but, I’ve had the hardest time getting there.

I realized this past weekend that a tree just isn’t happening. I’ve fought myself over the stronghold that traditions can have this time of year and the need to justify the time it will take. Call me The Grinch, but I couldn’t justify a week and a half of lights and grandeur in relation to the half-day/day it would take for me to put up everything.

This will be the first time I’ve not put up one, and I feel guilty about it. I know me, and my brain will forever archive 2019 as the year I didn’t put up a Christmas tree. 

But, I let the expectation on myself go and it was like relief walked straight through the door.

Because… it’s a tree.

Instead, I compromised with a single box of decorations and twinkly lights on the mantle. Gifts in Amazon boxes and mailing envelopes will sit on the hearth of my fireplace until they are wrapped the day before they are unwrapped, and that. is. okay. 

It has to be. 

I realize I just wrote four+ paragraphs about not putting up a Christmas tree, but that’s probably because it’s a metaphor for everything else lately. 

Anyone else feel overwhelmed daily with all of the things to do and not enough time to do them? (I hope some of you are raising your hands. Misery loves company, after all.

Reigning in the expectations I’ve seemingly placed on myself has always been an issue at some level or another. But man, I feel rushed all the time lately and – mostly – I feel like a disheveled mess hopping from one stop on my to-do list to the next. 

Then! Bonus round. I feel guilty for it. BECAUSE WE ARE NOT HUMAN AND NO ONE IS SUPPOSED TO KNOW WHAT’S GOING ON BEHIND THE CURTAIN. 

Right? No? Meh. 

I’ve written this post out several times, and erased every word just as quickly. The expectation that the world isn’t supposed to know I don’t have my shit together is a force to be reckoned with. 

As much as I like to think I don’t care what others think… I do. We all do. It’s why we (I) seek gratification from likes. It’s why we (I) post the best photo of the 173 that were taken.

But, really? 

IT’S OKAY IF I DON’T HAVE IT ALL TOGETHER.

IT’S OKAY IF YOU DON’T, EITHER.

If anything, I feel like surviving October through December is a feat in itself and deserves an award. Make it to December 31st? There better be a dang medal waiting for me as I slide on home the morning of the 1st. 

Who am I kidding? Please don’t make a big deal. Just reward me with an uninterrupted nap. 

Regardless of all of the inward feelings about all of the outward and overwhelming things, I’m grateful to be this far along in the game to know how to retreat, recharge and wrangle those feelings so that they aren’t debilitating.

And! I think (at least as far as I can remember) this is the first season of crazy-busy-I-just-want-a-nap feelings where I haven’t pushed myself to an epic toddler meltdown complete with snot-crying.

It only took 33 years, but whatever. 

Also, it’s still early and we’ve got 11 days left to go.

Honest? All of the words before this were written because I need to remind myself of these things.

Each day, I have to tell myself that it will all be okay if I don’t check off the 12,483 things that are on my to-do list. It’s okay if I show up late somewhere because I’ve been to five other places before (and I’m really just trying to fit it all in). And it’s okay if this year isn’t the happiest, most joyful time of the year as it typically is. 

It’s okay for you, too.

We’re human.
HUMAN.

We have feelings. And what I have found to be most important in getting through the tornado that each day presents is doing the necessary things that help preserve sanity. Turning off the noise, leaning in and being honest with myself have helped the most. 

Turn off the noise.

Turning off the noise for even just five minutes in the dark of my car at the end of the day has made the difference. It’s just five minutes, but it’s mine; it’s quiet and I’m in a space where no one needs me. 

The charm batteries are often blinking-red-depleted and those few minutes are gold.

Lean in.

I’ve really tried to lean into the reality of what the day will be. Lately, I’ve literally had to say to myself: “There is only one of me. I can only do what I can do. I am enough.”  It sounds silly, but hell – if I’m not saying it… no one else will. 

Leaning into what I know about myself – the need for quiet, safe spaces to recharge; the need to be physically active for at least an hour every day; and the need to keep moving one hour at a time – keeps me going.

Be real. 

I think about where my mom was at my age, and I’m typically floored. At 33, she was married, raising two daughters and keeping everything afloat that comes with that. We were both strong-willed children before that was a Google-ble term, so I imagine she was often frazzled. 

In stark contrast, I feel like I live in the realm of imposter syndrome. I forgot to give Milo his flea + heartguard medication last week, I make two to three trips out of the house each morning before I have everything I need and I chronically live out of the dryer.

The point is that everyone is different. Nothing is the “right way” and if we get caught up in the expectations of who we’re “supposed” to be – it’s a losing battle. 

Tapering the unrealistic expectations of life.

As each year turns another page, I’ve learned that different stages of life will present holidays that might be the most joyous of occasions. But sometimes, they also might be lackluster. It will always vary. 

But the excess of everything? The unrealistic expectations that are bolstered by social media and all of the dang filters? That doesn’t have to be a factor. 

Stripping everything down to what is important – friends, family, faith and the environment where you thrive – that’s the sweet spot. 

In the last days of 2019, I’m learning where mine is. My Christmas wish for you – is that if you’re in the same space – you’ll find your spot, too. 

Here’s to a less frantic and grounded Merry Christmas.