For When Chaos Makes You Crazy
When you walk through a season of chaos, it feels like being lost. Or like watching a Terrence Malick movie. Wait, what exactly is happening right now?!
Chaos throws you off your game, disconnecting brain synapses you thought were safe, and suddenly the thought of boiling water for spaghetti feels like someone asked you to do their taxes while delivering their baby. Everything becomes too much, too hard, too insane. Which is why my fireplace is currently filled with board games and globes.
Your season of chaos probably looks different from mine and from hers. Perhaps it's your schedule, your family dynamic, your stuff, or even your soul. Whatever the form, it's unwelcome. So you either force-feed order into your life, like it's a baby who hates peas, or you give up and eat three bowls of Cinnamon Toast Crunch in a row.
(I've started putting the cereal in a bigger bowl to try and trick myself. Guys, it totally backfired.)
My season of chaos is coming to an end, but another one is right on its tail. Our home has been covered in drywall dust and craziness for the last two months, all while I'm in my third trimester and desperately wanting to nest. It's hard to prepare for a baby when you can't even bring her stuff in from the car because there's nowhere to put it. But soon, the renovation will be done, shelves will be built, furniture will be moved, and cleaners will be hired amen. That chaos will end.
But then more will soon follow in the form of a new baby and two crazy boys whose only speed is "fast" and whose only volume is "I need sound-canceling headphones immediately."
Am I terrified? You bet. Am I already hypothetically forcing life to eat its peas so I can feel like my soul is in order? Without question. Is it working? 100% not.
But after weeks of feeling like a crazy person, I'm starting to recognize the gift in that being okay, in being lazy about forcing order where there is none. It's okay to be in a season of chaos, to temporarily not be able to create a sane space, to not have any answers for what's coming. I sure wish I had some, but without them, I'm forced to see life differently.
I have the ability to make my home grow as my family does. I have a husband who does laundry with a smile. I have kids who are young enough to actual prefer a rotating meal plan of spaghetti and McDonald's (even though I'm pretty sure I've developed scurvy).
If you can't create actual order, lean into heart order and put on your gratitude glasses. This season will pass, but it's not a bad tradeoff to come out on the other side with a calmer, more contented soul.