Head in hands again. Trying to shut out the noise. The kids with their needs swirling around me.
We are homeschooling in February.
Continuing this thankless task in February becomes my annual despair, one shared with all homeschooling families (Except for the perfect families we all hate. Don’t feel jealous. They’ll crash and burn out too. I’ve been homeschooling for a while, so I’ve seen a few things.)
If you are not homeschooling in February, what is your despair?
We all have the odd despair that tries to attach itself to us like an unwelcome leech.
Anyway, I sat on the couch, my overwhelm consuming me. Do I declare (another) fun day and take the kids cross-country skiing?
Should we call all our homeschooling friends and organize (another) hockey party on the free outdoor ice rink?
Do I give them as much “independent work” as I can and try to tackle the mess of stuff in the basement, the pile that seems to have acquired a life of its own and that roars at me as I pass like a Yeti in the basement?
Or do I confront the emotions in my heart that are spilling out onto the couch next to me, a mess I am trying to hide but that is emerging despite my best efforts to pretend I am confidently steering this homeschooling ship?
It’s becoming increasingly difficult to hide behind the fun. It’s becoming increasingly difficult to ignore the fact that our home is so disorganized that we can no longer find pencils to do our math. Or that no one cares. “I like using a green crayon to do my math, Mommy!” she asserts.
She is not trying to make me feel better. She is genuinely happy. Her needs are met.
And mine?
“I’m not worried about the kids,” my husband would assert. “I’m worried about you.”
So I offer you tea and a listening ear, dear friend, and ask:
How are you?
Not how are your kids?
Not how is the state of your home (We know it’s a disaster. You homeschool!)
How are you?
People who suppress feelings experience less positive and more negative emotions.
And then your tears, and your head in hands, and I put my arm around you to comfort you.
And as we:
- Admit to first ourselves and then another, through our tears, that all is not well . . .
- And after we put the ridiculous plans we cling to for creating super kids off the shelves of our egos . . .
- After we slow down and watch our kids learn for a while (Healthy plants in healthy soil grow. Similarly, healthy kids in a healthy environment learn, even and especially when we don’t beat them with rods to “encourage” them to know exactly what WE want) . . .
- Then we’re finally ready…
For what, you ask?
To learn the one most important lesson that overwhelm teaches us, which is that:
When we feed ourselves with unhealthy food, our tummies won’t feel very good for a while.
However, This is GOOD NEWS because we can go to the store and buy carrots today!
And how does this relate to homeschooling, for example?
If you follow the crowd and eat whatever they eat (50% highly processed foods), your tummy will get a bit upset afterward. Similarly, if you follow the crowds and set up your homeschool to mimic public school goals, for example, you’ll find that burnout is as certain as feeling bad after eating an entire box of Oreos.
Overwhelm is the blaring red light that tells us that letting our minds and actions drift with the crowd isn’t a healthy option.
There is a better way, friend, and overwhelm, our teacher and friend, unlocks a higher path.
More on the first step of HOW to get out of overwhelm next time.
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Image Credits: Man Upset by Dmitry Vechorko on Unsplash, Bird Soaring by Kshithij Chandrashekar on Unsplash
Restoring Life 