When I say I’m going to do something, I’m going to do it, even if it kills me. Unless of course, it’s actually killing me. We’ve been going through some challenges in our house, on every possible level. This after I took on way too many responsibilities for the fall.
After our first homeschool coop meeting, I realized I was in over my head. I was busy constantly. I was either teaching or chaperoning every period of the day. My creative movement class was huge and the logistics untenable. I then left directly from that harried morning to take my son to his therapy while my other two children in tow. My daughter was grumpy about it, but the two year old who was hungry and needed a nap was very cranky. Nothing about the situation was good. I started thinking about when I would grade papers for my creative writing class, if I didn’t have an open period. I could feel the panicked sinking feeling but didn’t have time to slow down and think about it. After a week of agonizing with myself, I emailed the leadership team and told them I wouldn’t be able to continue with the creative movement class (thirty three to six year olds is a handful under the best of circumstances). Fortunately I received gracious response of support and understanding.
I’ve been learning pass off responsibilities to others whenever possible. This means delegating to my team, when I have one, and trying not to feel guilty. It also means working on recruiting more help in areas where I’m in over my head.
I’m someone who doesn’t like to quit. It’s like admitting failure. But I am not in fact super woman. I am a human woman trying to home school an eight year old reluctant learner with as yet to be diagnosed emotional struggles and a gifted five year old with sensory issues, plus a two year old along for the ride. When I see it written out I realize how insane that alone sounds. I’m trying to run two church ministries and launch another while also revamping my blog and finishing a book manuscript. That’s nuts. No one could do that. Ok, maybe someone can, but that someone isn’t me and that’s OK. If there is someone out there who can do everything I’m trying to do and still hold her head up at the end of the day, I admire her. But I’m done trying to be her.