This Episode: "Keys" OR ...

"The Straw That Almost Broke This Camel's Back"

About 2 weeks ago, I had a pity party (you didn't get your invitation? Lucky you ...). I was telling Tim that I felt like I've spread myself thin these past few months. There are several reasons for this: (1) I've tried to take on many projects at one time like I did before Rain was born; (2) People think I'm just chillin' at my crib (a.k.a. "stay-at-home mom"), so they feel like I should be available 24-7 (ex: calling me at the last minute to perform favors or meet up, volunteering my services, etc.); and (3) I can't stop myself from "helping" people (read: enabling). That last one is the trickiest. I want to help, but frankly, a lot of the time I end up babysitting grown men and women. Sometimes, a person's definition of receiving help is "please just do it for me." The problem with doing things for people that they are capable of doing themselves is that they lose their desire to do things on their own. You know what I'm talking about; we've all enabled someone before. Point is, the stress of trying to be everything to everyone got to me a few weeks ago. The final incident that put the last shovel-full of dirt on my grave was this: I lost my keys.

I misplace things about once a week, but I usually recover them within a day or two. Anyone who has lost a set of keys knows the drill: the first day, you console yourself with, "They'll turn up soon." You take a quick look around the house and check your car. After a day or two, you, the eternal optimist says, "Perhaps I left them at my sister's place. I should call and ask about them." By day 3 and 4, you're calling everybody. The coffee shop, grocery store, library--everybody gets a phone call. By day 5, you'll even call your mother ("Honey, you lost your keys again? I've told you a thousand times to ..."). After checking your house (again), and car (again), and calling your sister with an accusatory tone ("Are you SURE they're not there?"), you resign yourself to the task of rebuilding your key set. Forget about the gaudy, and thankfully irreplaceable, key chain you bought in New Mexico, what about the keys to your safe, file cabinets, house, mom's place, mailbox, etc.? And all the grocery store key tags? What about those??

For some reason, losing my keys became a symbol of the loss of pattern, control, and all things systematic I loved about my former life. I felt like I'd never be able to do more than tread water when it came to scheduling, being on time, doing all the things I need to get done.

So, after talking with Tim, we decided I need to pull back. I have to stop micromanaging everyone's life around me. I can give guidance, but it's time to stop doing things for fully-capable people.

I let that sink in for a few days.

Yesterday, I found my keys. They were under my car seat, a place Tim & I had checked 3 or 4 times. It was a sign.

I thanked God I wasn't losing my mind, and that things were manageable. The next chance I got, I called Tim. "Guess what?" I said, still thrilled. "I found my keys! A while ago I found my keys in the car. I wanted to call you right then and tell you, but I can't find my cellphone ..."