This morning I woke up with an idea for my book. And a bright, whimsical painting. And a few loads of laundry. And a house covered in random bits and odds and ends to be put away. And a tantrumming child. And a husband off to work at the pub. And a terrible, terrible hairdo.
I couldn’t breathe. I felt like my chest was being crushed by the weight of it all. And then I went to do my makeup and found that Harry had chewed up my new makeup stick, along with all of my lipsticks.
I cried. And then I felt guilty for crying.
I tried, through gasps and tears, to explain to Beau that everything really was just fine. There was no one thing that was too awful to bear. It wasn’t even all of it combined. It was just that ever ever persistent voice whispering in my ear:
“You are not enough.”
“You will never finish that book. You will never clean the whole house. Your children will never feel loved enough by you. You can’t do anything well.”
The thing crushing my chest is guilt.
Beau said, “You know you can slow down, Bridget.”
At first I thought indignantly “No I can’t!” And then I thought about that lie. I can! I can slow down, and I can stop listening to that voice.
I had been dreading the thought of giving up something for lent. I thought about giving up instagram or coffee or some other little pleasure. But this morning I’ve decided to not give myself one more stupid little thing to feel guilty about failing at.
I’m giving up guilt.
And now excuse me for not editing or adding a picture or to this post. I need to take Finn to school with the toddlers in tow. Actually think anything you want…I don’t feel guilty!