Midstream in a Rushing River

The middle of life.

Kids, younger and older; college and kindergarten. Parents, thankfully still alive and well. The pace of life seems relentless. The weekends are barely memorable blips on the screen passing by at lightening speed. Can't stop too long to linger over a memory newly created because the next task is immediately before you and multi-tasking is the tallest order of every day. Divide your attention so that you can get a mediocre little of a lot of things done. At least, that's what it feels like.

Confession time. Truth? I've had a terrible week in some ways. I've snapped at my kids because they weren't doing enough school/house/whatever work. I've snapped at my husband for the same reasons. I look at my calendar and see very few, if any, blank spots. Even though I'm a "Stay-at-Home" mom and effectively work for myself (on an operational level, at least), I do have formal responsibilities—tasks I've taken on within different groups for the sake of us all, to participate, to give back. In and of itself, this is not a problem. I mean, other people do it and seem to manage, right?

So what's the problem? Is there a problem? Well, for one thing, I'm not perfect, and THAT's a problem. I can't do it all, all the time, and do it superlatively. What's my problem? I know, I know, that part is called perfectionism. But that's not all, is it?

No, there is also the fact of being in the middle of life. Things, including me, are changing. The physical plant is changing management and distribution systems, isn't it? It's in a transitional phase, and how many of those go off without a hitch? I'm not sure whether I'll still have a job after all is said and done. No, that's not true. I likely will still have a job for quite a few years to come, but I may well end up being demoted, turned into middle management. Wait a sec . . . that's what I am now. Huh.

Fortunately, I do believe, based on experience and observation, both my own and others', that the dark night of the soul doesn't last forever. There are too many things left to do in life as long as I have breath and the benefit of my faculties. This, too, shall pass, and when it does, I will just get up, shake the dust from my fallen self, and keep going, however imperfectly, remembering once again to clear the calendar here and there for the sake of those roses I've been too busy to smell.