I don’t know exactly how it happened. Maybe it was in college when I would walk by the stand of brochures of things to do in the area. Or maybe it was when I moved to a new city for my first teaching job and saw all the restaurants and stores I just had to check out. It could have been when I joined social media and scrolled past all the other amazing things my friends were doing with their spouses and families.
Whatever the reason, at some point, I became a weekend warrior. I powered through my week, working for the weekend and all the wonders I could cram into it.
I slowed down a bit once I became a mommy. But that just meant now I was looking at our house with a microscopic lens all week after work to decide what chores had to be done or what projects to accomplish. Then add in weekend sports and homework….carpe diem!
I wore my accomplishments like a badge and badgered my family to get moving. I grew resentful wondering why I was the only one cleaning or running errands or making calls. Why am I the only one who wants to plan a date or a family outing or seize the day in general?!
I rarely stopped to take the heartbeat of my home to see what we really and truly needed. I wanted to get things done and get out of the house because it was masking what was really happening in our hearts. My family was falling apart.
We were a blended family from the start. I become a “bonus mom” right out of the gate. Add in all the baggage that two people bring to a marriage and a new baby a few years later and you have what some people like to call… life. We were in the trenches and we were crumbling.
Deep inside I knew we needed something more than what a weekend family getaway would give us. We needed to desperately turn to God and each other, but on the surface, I really hoped that a clean house, perfect family dinners, and fun experiences would make it better instead.
Well, we did crumble. All the way. Our blended family collapsed. We were grieving the loss of a child that was 10 minutes away and that pain was deep. My grandpa died. My brother committed suicide. Our marriage collapsed under the weight of it all and we eventually divorced.
But I held onto my last thread of faith, and although I couldn’t control the actions of others, I knew I could control my own. So after a heartbreaking journey of divorce and losing the family I so dearly loved, I dug deep to find healing.
I started healing myself.
I needed to slow down and prioritize what needed to be done. Now, my little house of two {50% of the time} needed clean clothes, food, and dishes to eat on. I needed to get rid of toxic habits of thinking and walk away from counterfeit comforts. I needed self-care. I needed my church and yoga and journaling and quiet walks.
I started healing my Sweet V.
My daughter needed snuggles and laughs and ice cream sundaes with movies and jammies. We needed craft time and game nights and everything that was already in the walls of our little home. She was missing her big brother. She was missing having mom and dad together every day. I started to teach her self-care and that our happiness will never come from others or our circumstances, but from our connection to God, nature, and taking care of ourselves.
I started healing my marriage.
Yup. That’s right. After much prayer and reflection, I took the first step toward reconciliation. I opened my heart back up to the person I had been blaming for breaking it and was so vulnerable to admit my flaws and faults in the marriage. But this time I approached a partnership with a renewed sense of identity that gave me strength. My identity is a child of God. It is a strong woman who doesn’t need perfection or approval to define her. I healed my heart, my past, and brought better energy to the present so I could be a better partner and spouse again.
I started healing our weekends.
We now have very limited weekend plans. If there is a family or church event, of course, that is on our calendar. But Fridays are for pizza and movies. Saturdays are for late brunches of chocolate chip pancakes, bacon, and coffee. Sometimes one of us goes out with friends or Daddy and I catch a movie or dinner together, but mostly we relax because we both have demanding jobs. Sundays are church and grocery pick up. And laundry gets done along the way. I clean on Friday in one 30-45 minute session when I walk in the door after work and pretend like company is coming. It stays mostly clean-ish all weekend and I don’t complain if I am the only one organizing or doing household tasks. Because if that is how I am choosing to spend my time and what I desire for the moment, it doesn’t matter what the family is doing to enjoy their time.
All the healing has helped us be intentional in how we spend our time away from home. Vacations, getaways and date nights pack a more powerful punch and the impact lasts longer.
I truly believe women were created to take the heartbeat of the home, but it’s hard to hear that beat if we aren’t also healing our own hearts. It hasn’t been easy, but it has been worth it. The self-care and humility I had to learn. The prioritizing the great over the good. I am still going after my goals and dreams. I am still embracing the moments of opportunity that present a great experience for our family. But I am processing them through a mindset of what will bring long term peace and that is what is putting my little family back together one weekend at a time.
