excuses

Let Go of Shame, Take the L.E.A.P.

Kickball was one of my favorite games growing up. I felt powerful propelling the red ball through the air with a swift kick.

There are many things other than rubber balls that we kick down the road. All those “round to it” projects, the ones we tell ourselves we “should” be doing as good humans. These “shoulds” come in all shapes and sizes. It might be files to organize, doing your taxes, learning to play an instrument, or something as simple as writing a note.

For years I told myself I should create fabulous baby books for my children. I don’t know how I came up with the idea that perfect mothers have perfect baby books. What better way to project the perfect image, spotlighting the joy without having to mention the struggles?

Is Your Prayer a Monologue or a Dialogue?

While there are a good number of days where all runs smoothly, sometimes it is just plain hard to get anything done. I hit snooze one too many times. I make it to the kitchen only to remember I used the last tea bag yesterday. Laundry never made it into the dryer, so now I have to wear my least favorite top all day. First world problems, I know.

Each “bad thing” layers on top of the other making it difficult to still myself. Instead of showing up to pray with all of my baggage, I let myself off the hook. Instead of offering up the lack of caffeine and the wardrobe challenge— I compensate with a treat. I tell myself that it will be ok, just today, to skip my morning prayer time so that I can stop and get a latte from the cute coffee shop nearby. Later in the day, I make time to pop into my favorite store for a wardrobe refresh to compensate for the frumpy I feel. I run fast to keep up with my jam-packed schedule and find a way to avoid the grocery store for just one more day. Knowing that I am setting myself up for another caffeine free morning, I plan, to go to sleep earlier tonight so I won’t need the tea in the morning. I skip exercise in favor of a relaxing glass of wine.

3 Ways Shame Holds You Hostage

Growing up, I went to Mass with my classmates once a week during the school year. A bonus all school Mass was thrown in for good measure if there was a feast day. Our teachers were forever encouraging us to participate in the Mass, not just take a nap. Being the dutiful student, I did just what was asked, I participated. There was one week, in particular, that I vividly remember. 

It is hard to bloom when we are sitting with shame.

We practiced the songs for the Mass in music class and we were all encouraged to sing loudly so that God could hear our voices. As the priest processed in, we started to sing. My little earnest self chimed in, possibly a little too forcefully and a little off key. After a few lines, the boy next to me nudged me and told me to be quiet. He probably used more colorful language than that because I still remember how it felt to be shushed.