“I just need things to slow down a little bit”, I murmured under my breath during my nightly ritual of dish washing dissociation.
Collectively, can we all agree that the world has been spinning fast enough for the past several years and is in need of a tune up? Or is that what we call the cluster that was 2020? Either way, my mind and my heart ache, gut wrenching-can not sleep for anything, aches for slower living.
I’ll admit, most of the chaos in my life I’ve brought on myself. New baby, new roles, new house, new job description, new new new.
I’ve never been one that does well with change.
I have a bittersweet relationship with all social media platforms. I find them to be inspiration and an innovative creative outlook when filtered to fit ones needs. However, I find this short tempo reel, scroll as fast as you can, consume as much as you can environment is starting to leave me feeling empty.
I was standing there washing dishes and found myself feeling rushed. Why? Dinner had found it’s way to my belly, the baby was sleeping peacefully, my husband was content and resting and yet my mind was working at warp speed.
I just felt this overwhelming urge to get the dishes done as if our next meal was seconds from becoming due.
I think a lot of my day, and perhaps yours, finds themselves structured in that way.
Laundry? 3 loads in 3 seconds, please. Otherwise, you might feel like you’re behind.
So on and so forth.
I want slow.
Slow childhood memories that are worth remembering.
I want the window cracked in the morning breeze following a night filled with rain. That way, as I perch on the bench with my favorite throw or even duvet on a cold morning, I can see the steam from my coffee rise and wave in the air around me.
I want books, worn and musty cluttering my shelves as I’ve spent countless sunsets on the porch thumbing through someone else’s thoughts.
I want my baby to look at his mother and feel safe rather than rushed or as if I’m always expecting something from him.
Nature is never in any hurry and yet everything is as it should be.
I’ll spend the next few weeks murmuring and stressed, as we put the finishing touches on our new home. I’ll scurry to and fro with all the demands of the week, only to find myself just as I am in this moment.
Nestled in my king size bed, surrounded by pillows, a severe case of the Sunday Scaries, wishing all the same things.