When your “just” is more than enough

When your “just” is more than enough

I feel like I’m overdue to give you all a super inspirational post. You know, a really “feel good” piece of writing that leaves you feeling happy and warm inside. 

I want to give you all that more than anything; hell, I want to feel that right now. 

I could try to give you a fake happy post that y’all could probably painfully see right through, but I’m just not about facades anymore. 

Truth is, I’m struggling. 

Someone messaged me the other day and asked if I all like to write about is being exhausted. 

I actually chuckled when I read it. I write about exhaustion a lot not to complain, not to be negative, but because it’s my reality and has been that way for 13 years. All 3 of my books I’ve written talk about exhaustion throughout and those who have followed me the last several years know a good chunk of my blogs do, too. 

I’ve been snappier lately. 
I’ve been on edge. 
I feel like I can never catch up. 
I feel like nothing is ever good enough for anyone. 
I feel like when I’m helping one kid or doing something special for them, it disappoints a handful of my other children. 
I feel extremely underappreciated. 
I feel annoyed the majority of time I’m on social media; mind you, that’s not anyone else’s fault but my own. Those who are closest to me know I play the game of “should I delete all of my social media and never return” at least once a month if not twice a month. 

I’m irritated and anxious and feel like self loathing a lot as I find I’m doing the same exhausting, daunting tasks over and over, not able to do some of the bigger things I need and want to. 

I feel like to even get some of my “work” done, I’m asking someone else for a “favor” to help with the baby. I feel like I’m begging and pleading with children to not fight with one another and to do their work. I feel like I’m always yelling despite my best efforts when I wake up each day that I’m going to try harder that morning to not raise my voice. 

A lot of this is simply parenthood, yes, I know this before I get a dozen messages of people tearing into me sharing that I brought these children into the world so I should just deal with it.  Yes, Karen. They’re my children. I take care of them. I pay for them. I am fully responsible for them. And yes, I love them with everything I have. 

But I’m human and I’m overly stressed and overly exhausted and the empath in me feels depleted in every which way as I swear I still seek to find the good that is in this world, which yes, there still is; I just can so much more easily spot the devastation and depressing parts of it fairly quicker. 

This morning at church I looked over at a mom who was sitting with her two young boys. They were both so well behaved and I glanced her way a few times thinking I wish all of my children behaved like that, and then I saw it. She had tears coming out of her eyes that were being caught by the top of her mask. I quickly looked away as if my glancing was invading her privacy, but my own heart immediately began to pang for hers. 

It was all I could do to restrain myself from running over to her, wrapping my arms around her and bursting into tears myself. Not saying anything else, but that I just got it. 

I have no clue why she was crying nor is it any of my business, but I felt her pain; whatever “it” was, I felt it. All of it. Truth is, no matter how good any of us have it, we’re all hurting or struggling in some way; some of us just hide it better than others. 

Within a couple minutes I saw the mother gently pull her hair closer to the sides of her face so no one would notice as she tried to quickly wipe away any trace of a tear left. She was so sly that both of her sons didn’t even look up to notice her pain. Yes, as mothers we’re sometimes that good at hiding our pain. 

But I saw her. I felt what she was feeling in some shape or form. And anyone else who is simply needing to not feel alone, just know, I’m on the struggle bus more than normal over here, too. 

You never know the inward battles people are facing.  A smiling face doesn’t mean they can be your punching bag or target.  Despite this time we’ve all been forced into isolation and where we’re all supposed to be living in fear and “apart.”

Check on your friends.
Check on your family. 
Check on the loved ones in your own home. 

Realize you don’t even need the right words …

Just picking up some extra slack.
Just giving a hug out of the blue. 
Just taking the baby out of your arms. 
Just drawing a hot bath. 
Just taking a dish from their hands. 
Just pouring a cup of coffee or glass of wine. 

Yes, sometimes your “just” is more than enough …

Regan Long

Regan Long is a mother of 5, author, entrepreneur, philanthropist, and paid family leave advocate. Regan founded The Real Deal of Parenting, an online platform that provides heartwarming and witty content to millions of readers worldwide, a large percentage of those being mothers.

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