All The Things*

The bus rumbles away and I walk into my house and stand there in a daze.

I have so much to do I don't even know where to start.

My life is very full at the moment, brimming over with amazing endeavors, and every minute of every day is jam packed.  I'm loving my new Arbonne business; it is connecting me to old friends and making me new ones at the same time.  My jewelry business is thriving, which in turn raises funds for Shining Strong, the new non-profit I launched last week.  I realized recently that I'm running four websites along with my three businesses.  Add the hectic schedule of two school aged kids, running a household and trying to maintain my self-care regime to the mix, and it gets overwhelming. 

Someone I just met the other day asked me what I do for a living and I just stood there, open mouthed, unsure of where exactly to start.

"I'm a Mom," I said, because it seemed simplest.  As the words left my mouth I felt a tug of guilt in my gut. These days parenting is crammed into my schedule between the cracks of All The Things.

I'm happy - almost deliriously so. This, of course, makes my inner Panic Monkey nervous, waiting for the other shoe to fall.  Another inner tug of guilt: can't you just sit back and enjoy the moment? What is wrong with you? 

There is the undercurrent of anxiety of waiting for the follow-up procedure of removing more tissue around the site of Greta's suspicious mole.  She is an emotional roller coaster these days - up, then down - giddy with happiness and then crying for "no reason". 

I'm leaving tomorrow morning at 3am for a very early flight for a whirlwind trip to Las Vegas for an Arbonne conference, coming back on the red eye Saturday night. Tonight is a Book Club event with a local organization to talk about Let Me Get This Straight.

I'm not packed. I have orders to fill, schedules to button up for the kids and a mountain of laundry to fold.

I feel the stress well up inside me, threaten to burst through at any moment.  I want to curl up in a ball, but instead I find a quiet corner and focus on my breath.

Sitting still, I breathe in and out, and watch my thoughts float by.  All The Things tumble around in my consciousness: logistics, emotions, images of Greta's face crumpled with worry. 

Breathe, I think, even as my diaphragm tightens with anxiety.

My mind reaches back, mulling over where I was this time last year, weak from the cancer treatments that hadn't yet released their grip on me.  The stubborn lump in my neck was still there, more operations were needed.

A day like today was unfathomable back then.  A busy day last year at this time entailed mustering the strength to see my kids off on the bus.

I'm hit with the odd sensation that I kind of miss those days of forced rest.  I have such a hard time with enough.  Then, of course, guilt for even thinking this way.

Should I be doing this much? I ponder this thought for a while.  I realize the dreaded "s" word, should, has come back into my life.  Should took a hiatus during my illness, when the center of my universe was Healing.

The answer, I realize, is I don't know.  I don't how much is too much.  Is it because I'm an alcoholic?  Am I overdosing on busy?  Perhaps.  But All The Things are important, and I don't want to let go of a single one.

Just do the next right thing, my Recovery Voice tells me.   But they are all Right Things, my Panic Monkey protests.  Laundry? Orders? Dishes? Email? Meditation? Exercise?  Packing? How on earth do I know what to do?

I sit a while longer and wait for my mind to quiet. Eventually it slows, and I think:  write.

~~~~~~~

*All The Things concept credited to Hyperbole and A Half and her post "This Is Why I'll Never Be An Adult" - one of the funniest and most poignant blog posts ever.