Sit With It

"Comparison steals our joy."

The above is a quote from the Imperfection Issue of Kinfolk magazine. I keep coming back to it.  The other day, I had a moment of vulnerability.  Think sleepless night because LJ hasn't been sleeping well again; every single pantry-shelf sundry was on the floor of the pantry with a few broken ceramic mugs to boot (when LJ is mad and can't sleep he kicks or bangs the wall adjacent to the pantry causing an avalanche); can't get LJ to stop crying long enough to eat a quick breakfast before the bus comes; expensive Cuisinart coffee maker breaks so I had not been properly caffeinated; Nate keeps asking me to get the dirt spots off his new school kicks; drove Nate to school; saw a former classmate (who used to be in a walker) LJ's walking to school with his siblings and mom; broke down crying because I couldn't stop comparing LJ to this little boy. My heart ached; as I parked in driveway saw a lovely neighbor-friend who was walking back from the bus stop and I waved rather coldly and raced into the house.

After the last few weeks that presented a lot of struggles with transitioning back to school, I've had some time to reflect about the lessons of vulnerable moments.  There's an intense amount of courage required to embrace vulnerability. Preparing yourself for increasing anxiety, new fears and old fears defending their territory ruthlessly.  Dropping all pretense and letting people see the raw, emotional, messy you.  Not the sugar coated you...but the self that's made entirely of flaws, imperfect, struggling you. Courage is being open to how it feels when you are faced with struggles and the annoyances of circumstances over which you have no control and instead of hiding or stopping in your tracks you lay it all out on the table and turn these things into little helpers.  I realize that often when I feel out of control that I shut down. This morning I give thanks that I am enough.  To let myself be seen, vulnerably seen.  I am grateful to be the fumbling, awkward, nervous sometimes abrupt & abrasive me in those moments of intense vulnerability and instead of running from it I will try to sit with it. I embody the unfiltered me. I am going to just be.