Today was hard. Instead of waking up rested and rejuvenated from a night of blissful sleep, my youngest son, who is teething, slept in my bed while I was forced to find the only remaining flat cushiony surface on the sectional in the living room. Beyond that, yesterday evening I decided that 11pm would be the perfect time to start investigating different marketing plans for our business and begin the first entry to our new blog on this site.
I am proud of myself for being curious about different topics related to our service industry, and wanting to learn how to grow our company, but I am not always proud of how and when I decide to initiate those actions. I was up until 3am settling on the first post, taking delicate care to perfect the formatting, font, and placement.
But, I have to ask myself, why am I straining myself in this way? Why am I deliberately taking away from my recharge time to add more to my plate? Do we really need a blog? Does the community even care about what one house cleaner has to say on topics of worker's rights or holistic wellbeing?
It's all coming from stress and anxiety, really. I know the pattern well. When I am busy with cleaning accounts and my days are filled with answering calls and queries and scheduling out estimates and cleanings, I feel occupied and satisfied. But as soon as business starts to slow and queries aren't flowing anymore, I can feel the anxiety and restlessness creep up. A fear centered around a "lack of" is always at the root of it all.
So, instead of just letting myself feel the worry and let it pass, I stuff it down and try to kill the "lack of" sensation with an obsessive stamping out of the problem through rigorous research on the newest and latest marketing or advertising trends. I imagine posting myself in various parts of my neighborhood to pass out business cards and buttons or to lead a TED-X talk on sustainable cleaning practices for working moms who also love yoga and cheese.
I get frustrated at how easily I let the normal business side of things ruffle my feathers. I didn't play with my kids once today and I barely interacted with them aside from making dinner and feeding it to them. At bed time, I was supposed to read them a story, but they were so wound up, I got flustered and just sent them both to bed with tears in their eyes. It was a real crap parenting moment and left me feeling totally ugh-ish.
I wish I could take this day back and start over. I wish I would have taken a breath this morning and reminded myself it only works one step at a time. I wish I had had more faith in the universe and its endless flow of possibilities.
But for now, as I lay in my bed writing this little confession, all I can do is take a pause, forgive myself for the misstep and kiss my kids in the morning. There will always be work to be done, but not without breathing in the in-between.