It’s week two of summer vacation in my nanny house, and I feel like a haggard parent to three. Juggling what each kid needs while managing who is throwing a tantrum, and trying not to take their kid jabs to heart when I have to lay down the law— it is wearing me out. Kudos to all parents out there.
I’ve been working with kids for about six years now. My range has covered infant-kindergarten and middle school-college. Unfortunately, for present Morgan, I don’t have much experience with the elementary youths. I mean, I learned about the aforementioned kid stage in Psych and Ed classes, but I have no experience in the field apart from living it myself… like 20 years ago. Long story short, I don’t know if my seven year old nanny boy is giving me a run for my money A) Because I’m not familiar with his developmental stage B) Because he’s a boy, or C) He’s a Scorpio, and the Universe wants to teach me about myself through him. I’m thinking all three are collaborating here, but more to the point, I am just wiped out.
It’s important I note that wiped out Morgan is distinctly different from tired or depressed Morgan. Wiped out Morgan just needs to be recharged, and I’ve got some charging time set to begin at the end of the week– I’m not worried.
I’m just beating myself up about being drained, ya know? I’m second guessing my kid skills, my blog skills, my social skills– all the skills are in hot water. Being hard on myself is perhaps my greatest talent. I never cut me any slack, I don’t offer understanding, I don’t trust myself, and I bathe in comparison. Unfortunately, comparison is the nemesis of joy and is probably why my joy time isn’t more consistent.
Internet, I am so enormously grateful for this blog. I am even more grateful to be a nanny for a family who’s made me a part of their own. But, I watch these kids grow and I feel the time I have to prepare myself for a new career waning. I see the archives of this blog growing, and I feel things plateauing. I struggle with Instagram nonsense, and watching others so effortlessly produce professional photos for their blogs. I compare. My joy gets sucked out.
Once I’ve rendered my self-confidence broken and bruised, I can recognize truth again. I remember the unassuming people who’ve shared their immersion in my life journey with me, and then I remember why I love this thing. I realize that despite the Instagram-likes I lack, the site brings me a bunch of views each time I post, and that’s what I really care about– getting my writing out there. I remember that progress continues progressing, and my writing is going to take me where I need taken.
I started this blog thinking I wasn’t good enough, or interesting enough, or whatever; and to my surprise, it’s done everything I dreamt it would. Until I created this, I felt impossibly misunderstood by the world. I had no idea where I wanted my life to go, and I let all the pen marks from term papers passed keep me from honoring what I’m called to do. I’m thrilled to, now, understand that words are my gift. They’re instrumental in my life’s purpose, and they manifest my mind– it’s rad.
So no matter my feelings of inadequacy or comparison to others, I’ve got to remember to check in with reality. Not the reality that my doubt mirages for me, but the real deal— undeniable truths. In truth, I’m doing just fine.