You might’ve noticed that I’ve been quiet on this site. It’s been the same everywhere: Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, Pinterest. My house too. Something clicked last Thursday. I was staring down at an overflowing calendar. An email box that I’m drowning in. Kids who need me. And then my 3 year old fell and cracked his head hard enough on a tile floor that we needed a trip to urgent care. That lead to a trip to the ER at the children’s hospital. That (very thankfully) did not lead to the CT scan the first doctor recommended.
But that did lead to an exhausted Mom. Tired Maxwell. And the realization that something had to give.
I needed quiet.
It wasn’t about wanting to be alone or even wanting to feel productive and cross something off the list. This needed quiet was all about self-preservation.
Back in July, I talked about how I pull my inspiration from the crowd and the noise that it creates. And I know I said I was going to try to put myself in the crowd more often, be more present, more involved, and not hide behind my introversion any more.
And I’ve been trying. I volunteered, I’m involved, I’m there. But I’ve learned an important lesson.
Quiet isn’t just what I need at night when I fall asleep. Quiet isn’t just a momentary reprieve. The silence for me is necessary. And I can’t loose track of that while I battle for inspiration and surround myself with amazing and beautiful people.
So this weekend I tried to ignore my blog. And I didn’t do much on Facebook, either on my page or on my personal profile. Instead I read a really awful vampire romance novel. I spent a lot of time with Max. I washed a car seat cover. And I decided what I am going to be for Halloween.
And I recharged when I needed it the most. I tried not to look at my calendar. I tried just to focus on what I needed to see rather than the big picture. And I healed my over-stimulated brain. The self-imposed quiet was mandatory.
It severed as an important reminder of what I need in life isn’t the same as what I feel obligated to do.
And that little lesson feels very big.