Supposed-to's
Fall. The season when there’s a chill in the air and things for a brief moment begin to slow down. In reality, we all know that it’s the calm before the holiday storm.
Even though parts of me misses the summer break, let’s face it, even summer wasn’t really a break but instead meant spending days getting ready to head to the camper and another half a day getting settled at the camper, and then watching the laundry pile grow at warp speed because of swimming, rain, and MUD at said camper. The (two) sunny mornings I did spend on my camper-deck with my coffee have made it allllll worth it. And, truthfully, it made me pretty darn happy to watch my kids spending hours in the pool and riding their bikes.
What doesn’t make me happy is the time I spent in my life being angry because things don’t look the way I think they’re “supposed to”. I know you can relate on many levels. Your hair, your ass, your kitchen, your garden, your workout gear, your eyebrows, your skin, your vehicle, your makeup, your business, your sex life… We get so damn wrapped up in the supposed-to’s.
One day a loooooong time ago, we had our sights set high. We had these visions in our heads of what we wanted; of what we desired. We had high hopes for the future and we dreamed of allllll the possibilities. As a child, I’d spend hours upon hours dreaming and planning and envisioning the way life would look one day. I’d picture the car and the house and the husband and the kids. I’d picture my clothes and my hair and I’d imagine the confidence and certainty I’d feel.
But then one day I woke up and realized I’d forgotten how to dream. In the midst of marriage and babies and responsibilities I’d forgotten about the magic of possibility and every bit of space in my brain was taken up by the “supposed-to’s”. Somewhere along the way, I’d lost sight of the beauty of dreaming and in its place was a never ending list of failures: failure to look the way I was supposed to, cook the way I was supposed to and and eat the way I was supposed to (which were completely different by the way - cook the things my hubby likes, but eat the things that make me skinny), keep my vehicle clean like I was supposed to, go to work and tend the yard and raise the kids and have the hobbies and keep up with the laundry and socialize and volunteer and put out more like I was “supposed to.”
I started to crash and burn. I spiraled. I grieved the lightness I had lost and I hated the failing, failing, failing. I cried and I feared I would lose what I had because I just couldn’t BE the way I was supposed to BE until the day I started to dig deep and ask the question, “According to WHO?” WHO SAID I needed to BE all these things? WHO SAID I needed to do it ALL in order to be worthy of happiness? WHO SAID I had to prove my worth or that I only deserved to dream once life looked like it was supposed to?!?! You know who said?? I did.
The day I started to do the work and do the soul-searching and get brutally honest with myself, I realized that I was the one who had created the standards I was killing myself trying to live up to, and I was the ONE who was telling myself a story of failure. It was ALL. ME. It was a hard pill to swallow realizing that I was the one who had created the ever-elusive finish line I was so desperately racing towards. I was the one who had created the story of proving-worth-by-cinnamon-buns-and-lingerie.
I was the one who was telling myself on the daily I wasn’t skinny enough or pretty enough or likeable enough or outgoing enough or desirable enough or fun enough or anything enough. NO ONE in my life was saying these things to me except ME. I expected disapproval from my husband all the time. I read every question from his mom as a personal dig against my value as a wife and mother and HUMAN. And it had all been created by ME. The days I spent doing the inner work to see these things and to finally accept the responsibility for my own stories and my own beliefs were magical. The time I spent questioning everything changed EVERYTHING. Because you see, if I had created all of this turmoil within myself (or at the very least fed it and allowed it to grow), then I could UN-CREATE it.
If I was only the victim of my own skewed and completely unrealistic expectations, then I could create NEW expectations. I could CHANGE THE STORY I WAS TELLING MYSELF and I could meet my beliefs head-on and question whether they were truly serving me and these realizations changed everything. They changed ME. And you know what happened once I released myself from the suffocating grip of the supposed-to’s? I could breathe again. I was alive again. My fears started to dissolve. I found my voice again. I started to dream again. I found my desire to live a rich, adventurous, and meaningful life again.
And now? Ohhhhh those days seem like a lifetime ago in some ways, but there’s still a part of me that is terrified to ever get back to that place. Just typing this makes my insides clench and fear rise into my throat. But now? Now I SEE. I stop and I question myself. I question my motives and my intentions and I give myself grace again and again. I practice gratitude. I make choices that feel good.
And when I stumble? I forgive myself.
I feel into what I’m lacking and I nurture myself or I show up at someone’s door and tell them I just need to be loved today. Today I’m proud of myself. Proud of the life I’ve led and the life I’m creating and proud of my choice (on the daily) to tell the “supposed-to’s” to take a HIKE. Life is so much more than how we look or what we do, and the only “supposed to” that matters is the one that nourishes your soul and allows you to spread your light into the world. Happy fall my friend. Let this be your reminder today to slow down, take a few minutes to play in the leaves, and think about what would really feel good to your soul (and then do it).
Sending you so much love,
Elsa