I Lost My Sh*t and Found Grace

So Tuesday night I sort of, might have, maybe had a flinging fit. 

Okay, that's not true. Tuesday night I totally lost my shit.

The back story....

It had been 10 days since my outpatient surgery from which I didn't recover as quickly as I thought I would or as quickly as I wanted. I had not cooked a meal; I had not vacuumed or dusted, and I had not exercised. In my world that is the trifecta of you are a failure as a wife and mother--or basically a human being in general.

Monday evening Chris said, "I'm so tired of planning menus." I heard, "Why aren't you doing what you should do?" So, I stayed up until 2 am planning meals for the next week and ordering groceries. Tuesday morning I started dusting and vacuuming. I had to empty the vacuum several times there was so much dog hair. I heard the voice from the past, "You're just not the homemaker I am/was. I would never have allowed my house to get this dirty, but I guess we're just different. It mattered to me." After cleaning I decided to go for a run/walk where I heard, "Those clothes you bought recently aren't going to fit and once again you are not responsible with your money you'll never keep your weight off. You're just big-boned." And the absolute worst, "You are not enough."

Fast forward 10 hours....

I was cooking dinner and simmering--me and the dinner. With little warning, my simmer turned into a boil--me not the dinner. I started spewing at anyone who walked into the room. "Why don't y'all clean up your rooms?" "You haven't unloaded your cars. Do that now." "I'm sick of you just sitting around." To which one child who had not taken cover when the onslaught started was looking at his phone. Me, "What are you doing?" Child, "I am looking for pizza delivery jobs." Me, "You can't get a job now; you're about to go to the beach house." Said child looked at me and said very calmly, "Mama, I don't know what you want. Just be clear about whatever it is and I'll do it."

Grace

I stopped, walked outside, and breathed deeply a prayer of gratitude for a family that extends grace.

Because here's the truth--it wasn't about the dinners, or the dirty floors, or the exercise, or the clean rooms (although it would be nice for a little help). It was about the loss of control. Loss of control because of the pandemic and loss of control because of the surgery. And the absolute worse, loss of control of my coping mechanisms that keep my deepest insecurities at bay.

And I was met with grace.

Five days later here is my take away. We have no idea what other people are going through. We have no idea what scabs are being ripped off because of this pandemic or life in general. We can extend one another grace.

Mostly I'm trying to extend myself grace. Grace to accept just because I've buried those demons doesn't mean they don't exist and that doesn't make me a failure. But they don't have to continue to exist. Now that they are unearthed, I can choose. I can choose to put on my big girl panties (regardless of their size) and face the hard work it will take to defeat them, or I can have gourmet meals every night, a spotless house, and a warped body image.

My choice....what choices do you need to make?