This past weekend, my hubby moved in the remainder of his stuff (his old roommate next door was moving out, so the last remnants had to be moved over). It’s been hard work making room for all his stuff. On Sunday, it had finally gotten to me; I was a bit cranky, to say the least. I’m taking the night off and my wonderful husband cleared the supper table and is putting the kids to bed so I can soak in the tub. Awesome!<\/p>\n
I know I’ve posted about my drive to prove myself. Today I was reminded of how I really don’t know how to take breaks. And not a few minutes of inactivity when I’m planning in my mind how I’m going to do whatever I feel I need to do when my ‘break’ is over – that’s not rest. But I think I’ve tricked myself into thinking that it IS rest. I’ve been working every weekend since we got back from our honeymoon to try to clear out old things and make space for the new things. I’ve been so driven to try to bring order to the chaos of having someone move all their possessions into the home I’ve been living in for the past 6 years that I haven’t stopped to rest. And finally I snapped. Overwhelming feelings of frustration and grumpiness took over. Why? Because I don’t take enough time to put the perceived load down and just rest, not think about it, and enjoy the moment. I’ll always have things to do, but I need to learn how to not let them consume my life, so I’m able to enjoy the moments given to me.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"