This week I’m being thrown out of my comfort zones and up and down into unfamiliar places.
It’s a week where I don’t fit. A week where I find myself tripping over words, feeling I don’t look like myself and that I’ve forgotten how to set a table.
Good things are happening. Blue sky peeks through clouds. Children laugh. Families embrace and linger over good-byes. New library books sit in happy piles.
But today, I feel a bit like the dirty tan slipcover that’s too big for our couch, covered in marker and foot skids. And I’ve just been sprayed and tossed in the wash with the rest of the bottle of OxyClean, and I’m hoping it all comes out looking better than it went in.
I’m doing what I can, but it’s more than the doing because so much is out of the realm of hands.
It’s stuff of the head — where I get to tell the rest of me what is true. Where I can choose:
Fear or faith.
Overwhelm or one step at a time.
Despair or hope.
Self-punishment or grace.
“You’re alone” or “You’re never alone.”
“This will be a disaster” or “You can do this.”
When I see the words on the screen in front of me, the choice seems easy. Of course. But in real life it’s more complicated because sometimes I choose dirty and ill-fitting because they’re what I know. And other times, I drive myself crazy trying to smooth and tuck in all the extra fabric and loose edges to make it all look right as if then it will be right.
I vacillate between procrastination (because I know I won’t be able to get it perfect) and planning — all the lists and timetables and outline points, so I can manage what will come at me.
But I can’t manage it, really.
Might it be a flop? Perhaps. If it turns out as badly as I can imagine, would I make it through alive? Yes, I believe I would.
Sometimes I just need to turn things on their heads.
As I write, J walks up next to me, requests another pre-dinner snack, sees the naked fifteen-year-old burgundy couch and raises her eyebrows: “What happened here?”
“I’m just washing the slipcover.”
“Ooooh! A new couch!” she calls out, jumping across the exposed cushions with a broad smile.
It’s unfamiliar. But good.
Then she runs back downstairs to play.
Linking up today with “Just Write” (an exercise in free writing everyday moments) at The Extraordinary Ordinary.
Connecting through the power of stories written, spoken and lived
Just washing the slipcover…that’s what it IS, isn’t it? Because what lies beneath is solid & true & exactly what it is. This thing that doesn’t fit quite right and shows skid marks is barely skin deep and can “easily” be changed. Right? I love J’s response! “what happened here?” I hear her tone of voice. :) And then a launch into the made-“new” couch. And away again. Priceless.
Our slipcovers collect so much don’t they Ash? Showing all the signs of a life that sometimes wears. I loved this piece and all the wisdom collected in the folds Ashley. As always, I thank you for it! xoxox
Thank you for your wisdom coming back at me. Still processing through the folds of the slipcover, but I’m telling myself this is all good. xoxo
What a great story of seeing the world half-full (Oooh, a new couch). Sometimes it is our babes that teach us how to see the world on the happy side. I hope you get a bit of time to yourself, maybe a long shower to think.
Thank you so much for visiting and for your comment, Baby by the Sea. You are right. I do learn so much about my view of the world through their clear-eyed perspective. Thank you for your kind wishes. I’m hunkering down to read a good book right now. :)
Therein lies the dichotomy of Western Civilization and it’s most massive associated pitfall. That, “Either/or” thing. You’re so right, it’s a challenge to find a balance point of extremes. At the risk of sounding banal, sometimes polarization turns to paralyzation. Nicely called Ash.
More “both/and” and less “either/or.” That in between can be so hard, but in the long run such a good place to be.
Another brave self- revelation. Most of us are conflicted, our confidence and self-image seem to be in constant turmoil, causing frequent doubt. Be thankful that you care. The quest for perfection, leave it behind. Celebrate your journey!
Celebrating in the midst of doubt — that does feel like the kind of bravery I want to embrace….you?
Wonderfully said!
I love the way you see deep meaning in every day life such as the slipcover, while to J & most: it’s just ” a new couch!” Your words bring so much insight! Love you Ash!
Thank you, Becca. Love you. May you, too, find places of joy in the uncomfortable this week/weekend.
Good stuff, Ashley. J is a cutie!
Thanks, Kim. She sure is. Such an innocence about her. Praying that never changes. :-)