Junk Journey

A little over a year ago, I began on a journey to dust off the pieces of myself that I had stored away over my years of being a mom, a wife, a caregiver, and all of the places that having a family takes us.

Some were pieces that I had carefully packed away with thought and intent. When I decided to become a mom, my free time was placed high up on a shelf in a closet where she would be safe, but accessible. When I put her up there, I knew that I’d pull her out again. And I did so over the years…sometimes just for a moment or two, but the longer periods came with time.

I put the career box alongside my free time when I decided to stay home with my kids while they were little. She too was packed away with care. I looked at her with rage sometimes. Doubt. Regret. Joy. Questions. She got pulled out for a brief stint until my mom got sick, and then was hastily shoved back up there. Years went by and I thought about that box less. Sometimes I longed for her and wished I had made different choices for her. But inevitably, she was pushed further and further back into a corner as I made room for other things.

When Kid B came along, free time got real dusty. Kid A started kindergarten a few weeks later, and all of a sudden I was balancing an armful of packages that never seemed to get put away.

Kid A was like an accordion folder. Ever-present and pulled out multiple times a day, organized by priority and necessity. Kid B was a literal backpack full of diapers, snacks, toys, and bits and pieces that went everywhere with me. And Mom was this whole other thing. Like a beautiful garden of flowers that was put into my care, and I just wanted to be around it all of the time. Some days it required a lot of attention, sometimes just a little. There were some pieces that needed a lot of work and constant pruning, and other parts that could be left to bloom as long as we took care of the weeds. But it was this great big added piece that I wasn’t really prepared for and couldn’t be stashed. And all of this on top of being a wife and a home owner and all the things. The friend container was set aside, but brought me so much joy when she was able to come out. The metaphorical closet that held all of my personal pieces was a mess. The literal house that held it all together was constant work- the daily messes and never-ending caretaking, and the bigger projects and expenses that come with a safe haven.

It was all balanced carefully. The pieces that were unnecessary got stored away, the daily parts tucked into my arms.

And then the winter came and the garden was gone.

I found myself suddenly under a heap of rubble. It filled my heart and my head and crept and flowed into every single corner of everything. And for the first time in my life there wasn’t a plan. Sometimes I made a dent in the cleanup, but sometimes it grew legs and multiplied. I tackled what I could in the best way that I knew how, and spent a long while picking up those pieces.

Eventually, the overwhelming and crushing mound of rubble was reduced to a little pile that gets stuck in the corner, like the very last bits of dog hair and crumbs that never quite seem to make it into the dust pan. But just like the crumbs, I’ve accepted that it’s just a piece of my life that will always be there. Out in the open, sometimes brushed under the rug, but not capable of being stored away in a container. And I’ve learned to be perfectly OK with that.

Removing and managing the pile of rubble, combined with the retirement of the baby backpack has allowed me to pull out the pieces I had stored away for a long time.

The box labeled “career” got tossed. I didn’t even bother going through it, because I knew that it was a piece I was done with.

The jar of friendship chocolate has been refilled and is always the sweetest treat. It makes me feel better.

The accordion folder and backpack full of kid stuff has morphed into the most beautiful beach full of waves. Mostly there is rhythm and consistency. It balances me, charms me, brings me joy, and sometimes scares the crap out of me. I love to sink my toes in and sometimes do a giant cannonball into the depths. I like to watch from the deck and let it do its thing. Sometimes I have had enough and get to walk away, but never for too long. I have peace and contentment knowing that motherhood is the place I’ve chosen to set up shop and store my things.

The box called free time now happily graces the shelf where I keep my most prized possessions. Out in the open, a trophy. It lives amongst an array of creative tools and ideas, mismatched pieces of collected things, organized folders and boxes of junk.

I’ve locked the closet that used to store these things. I don’t need to put them away anymore.