Dear Mom,

I woke up Monday morning with zero ideas in my head of topics to write about this week. I was totally blank. Also totally exhausted and cursing myself for once again staying up too late the night before watching TV. Anyway, I went about my morning, working, taking the kids to school, attending a rather long PTA meeting, and all the while I never worried. It was a strange sensation if I’m being totally honest. Here I was, behind on my writing, delayed with the start to my day because of the meeting that went long, starving (because I didn’t eat before the meeting that went too long), and yet my mind was calm. My body relaxed. The perfect recipe for a stressful day yielded no negative thoughts. No concerns at all. So not like me.

I couldn’t even motivate myself to lift weights because I was so tired. Normally, I’d beat myself up for being too tired. Ok, that’s got to be the very definition of insanity. I’m going to make a note to stop doing that.

As I put myself through a very gentle stretch and mobility workout I searched my mind for answers. How could I detach from stressors so seamlessly like never before? But then, I realized it’s not like NEVER before. It’s just not like… often.

Let me explain.

Last week, as I suffered from yet another example of beating myself up after a day didn’t go perfectly according to plan, Jeremy and I had a conversation regarding the lifespan of this issue I hold. Turns out, I haven’t always been like this. In fact, I’m not always like this now. I go through ebbs and flows throughout my year. Some months/weeks/days I allow things to roll off my back without bothering me at all. I can adapt. I can relax. I can avoid getting worked up over something out of my control. But then, for the majority of my days it’s the extreme opposite. I set high expectations for myself. I hold myself up to ridiculous standards. I give myself little to no wiggle room for adjustments. And then I lose sleep and obsess over changes or any sign of failure. Why am I sometimes like this and sometimes not? Why am I like this ever when I used to not be at all?

I’ll admit there was a split second when I contemplated whether or not it can be hormonal. Like wouldn’t that just make sense if my entire identity was tied to the time of the month? I should research the effects of hormones on the inability to let go. More specifically, am I happiest and most at ease when I have my period? OK, probably not, but maybe?

Anyway, none of this really matters in the long run. What matters is that I know I am capable of letting things go. I am able to go with the flow (excuse the period pun) and I am most definitely equipped to not beat myself up when plans change. I can control my reactions. I know this, because I’ve done it.

My big question now is, why can’t I always do it? Why do I ever struggle with controlling my reactions? Why do I ever struggle with letting things go? Why do I ever obsess and worry? And when did I become this way?

Do you remember me being a worrier as a child? Did I get worked up when things weren’t perfect? I don’t think that came until later. Maybe I’m wrong, but I’m beginning to wonder if this is my true self. Beneath all the layers of worry and obsession and anxiety and shame could I simply be an easy-going person who doesn’t get bothered by obstacles standing in my way? Is this who I’ve always been deep down? I used to believe that this version of me was only a product of my alcohol and substance abuse but maybe that’s just a story I’ve been telling myself. Maybe my ‘go with the flow’ self is my true self and this other version, where I worry about everything, is a product of my environment as well as my interpretation of societal norms. As if I believe I should worry about the world and therefore I do worry about the world.

Do I only worry because I have people relying on me? Is that it? That’s probably it. It does fit my own timeline. I’m guessing I worry more about money and status because I have kids who are directly affected by my bank account, but I don’t really care about these things. If I had it my way, I’d get rid of our one car and live in our two-bedroom apartment forever. I’d never buy another piece of plastic, and I’d cancel all of our subscriptions. If I had it my way I would care a lot less about a lot more.

Isn’t this all a product of being a parent though? Of being a partner? Making small sacrifices here and there for the benefit of those around me? Wouldn’t it be selfish if I were to disregard all the wishes of those in my family to better serve my own interests? I think so. But that doesn’t mean I need to lose myself entirely in the process. I don’t have to get worked up simply because my kids aren’t one hundred percent happy all of the time. That would be a very dangerous goal to begin with considering that kids are rarely ever one hundred percent happy.

The more I write the more I’m realizing that this is my answer. I have become a different version of myself throughout the last decade but it’s less about my sobriety and more about my role as a parent. So how do I balance this duality? How do I keep hold of myself while still being the person my family needs me to be? Well, by staying in control of course. By understanding that I will have to, from time to time, cater to the needs of those around me but I do still have the power to control my reactions to these moments. Just because they’re unhappy doesn’t mean I have to be.

And perhaps the answer to my question of why I’m not always able to control my reactions doesn’t actually matter at all. It’s the option being open to me that matters. The power to not get worked up when things aren’t perfect is, well, powerful.

Now, what will I do with my new power? Eventually, I’ll take over the world. But first? I’m going to rest. I’m going to slow down and I’m going to savor each moment. I’m going to take care of my family (who all happen to be sick this week) and I’m also going to take care of myself even if that means allowing the tasks on my to-do list to pile up. Because there is no real pressing timeframe on most of these tasks. There is no rush in getting the laundry done or the dishes cleaned. I don’t have to finish the book I’m reading. I can put it on my shelf and come back to it next year if I want. Most of the things I want to get done today will roll over to tomorrow anyway.

And when I inevitably drop the ball or don’t live up to some unrealistic expectation, I will know that I have the power to not let it bother me. I know I can move on from the moment and let it go. Let the very thought slip away. Shit happens. Things fall apart. Days aren’t always great. We don’t always make others happy. We don’t always show up the right way. We fuck up often. No reason to get all worked up about it.

I love you, Mom.

Love,

Rachel