Lately when I sit down for a quiet, uninterrupted moment, it is a brief moment, only lasting for a second or two. Life starts happening. Saturday night was a restless night around our house, and on Sunday morning, I finally gave in to not being able to sleep. I got out of bed and turned on the coffee.
I sat down with my cup, looking forward to at least 30 minutes, when Katy came down the stairs. Before I knew it, Billy was down shortly, and the tv was on for the day.
Sunday was starting off as a day of finishing a to-do list that had been around since Friday. Not exactly a day of rest. By the early afternoon, I was driving the girls home from the library, contemplating a stop at Michaels for some supplies and felt the weight.
My mind needed quiet. My eyes were tired. I headed home.
After some lunch, I began to work in the kitchen. I had some music on, low enough that I could barely hear it. I was doing some prep work for the week and started working on dinner. I could feel some of the weight lifting. My brain was engaged in cooking, and my mind was quiet. I wasn’t thinking about the week ahead. I wasn’t thinking about the week behind. I was simply there.
When Billy came home from running some errands and plopped down in front of the tv with the remote, I asked him if he could watch it in the basement for a while. I still needed quiet.
By 8 pm, the final load of laundry was almost done in the dryer. I was feeling relaxed and ready for the week.
Monday morning, I took some quiet time with my coffee to just be.
And then I spent 10 minutes before leaving the house in a frenzy trying to find my keys. Keys that I had put in my bag 5 minutes before the frenzy started. I almost ended the day the same way, trying to find my work id, which was in my coat pocket.
The lesson here is that the crazy simply doesn’t go away. Twenty-four hours of peace can’t erase weeks of stress.
I need the load to lighten, and the end is in sight. Until then, I will try to put a lid on the stress and keep my keys in my sight.