Always Everything
After the birth of my first son, my whole world changed. And when I say my whole world, I genuinely mean every piece of my life was touched and transformed in one way or another. When I reflect on it now, I recall it being breathtakingly beautiful—the breaking, the destroying, the exposing, the crumbling. I had never been emotionally and mentally deconstructed that way, and I found it invigorating.
I know, rationally, that I felt many other things, too. Fatigue, overwhelm, and confusion, to name just a few. But for some reason, when I think back to it, I only remember the joy of having this tiny little human completely reshape my life.
And I’ve been chasing that all-consuming goodness again ever since.
And I’m yet to find it.
The birth of my second son was equally beautiful, but it was met alongside a still-growing toddler. My life wasn’t put on complete pause like I was with my oldest. I wasn’t able to sit with the deconstruction as much. Instead, I tried to help my toddler figure out numerous aspects of his new life while also caring for my youngest son and my newly reshaped life.
It struck me the other day how I’m continuing to chase this emotion I’ve built up in my head. And it hit me the other day that that emotion is often there for me to still feel. But, in the present, it’s just among a variety of other emotions, too. At any given moment, I’m likely able to always feel a little bit of everything.
Fatigue, overwhelm, joy, contentment, irritation, anger, connection, awe, confusion, interest, stress, worry, fear, excitement, dread, empathy, perfectionism, guilt, shame, insecurity, love, heartbreak, flooding, gratitude. All of it. All of those are there, at most every moment of the day.
And it’s up to me, as I’m sitting at the head of the table, that all these various emotions come to sit at, to decide where I put my attention. I must acknowledge the fatigue and overwhelm, or else they’ll get louder and louder until I recognize them. But all it takes is a gentle nod in their direction to let them know I see them, then shifting my awareness to the gratitude right next to me. Or the joy that is beaming in its seat, eager to share.
Sometimes emotions become all-consuming and take over the table, and our seat at the head of the emotional table gets a bit skewed. But the majority of the time, we do have a say in where our attention goes. And it’s up to us to realize that and to take it.
So, lately, I’m trying my best to give my kindest nods to annoyance and irritation, but then I look wholeheartedly to contentment and awe, eager to hear what all they have to say to me.
Who are the emotions sitting at your table? And who will you give your attention to?
