The art of being yourself

I noticed that social media was getting on my nerves. Aggravating me. Causing anxiety, and I couldn't figure out why. My algorithm is such, that I only see nice things, pages and people that appeal to me. No violence, no half naked people. Just homemaking, faith,food, beauty. But even that was starting to wear on me. Not because it was ugly, but because it is everywhere. And all the same. Same,same,same,same.

Video after video, women folding matching towels that had been hung out to dry in the sunshine, baking bread in linen dresses by candlelight. So beautiful. Really,it is. I could look all day and be inspired. But something feels...off. Forced. A lifestyle hashtag. Performed,not lived.

I got pregnant for the first time at 17. I had no idea what I was doing, so I sought out women who could teach me. It was 1990, and we still got our news from newspapers and the evening news on TV. One day, I saw an ad in the community paper for Le Leche League meetings at the library- a space for pregnant moms who wanted to learn about breastfeeding and mothering. Best thing that could have happened to me.

Those women opened a whole new world to me. A way of living I hadn't known existed.

Gardening. Homeschooling. Montessori. Clothes made with natural fibers. Cooking from scratch. Learning to say "yes" to children, instead of the "no, because I said so"

Homes full of life and love. The impact it had on me was instant and set me on a path that I'm still walking today. (Mary Ann, Kathleen, Angela, here's to you)

It wasn't about a vibe. It wasn't carefully curated. It was just, well, women, living out their values in whatever way they could. Their houses were messy and wonderful. The meals were rustic, cheap, and healthy. Salad came from the backyard. We connected, not on a lifestyle, but on a desire to raise a family with intention. And that looks different for each of us.

My grandmother had 8 children, and cooked, cleaned and sewed clothes for years. She had a maid to help. My mother, on the other hand, had 4 children, was divorced, and worked 3 jobs to keep us going. And still did all the domestic things too. With no help at all. Whew!

And then there's me~seemingly born for all things domestic. I love home. And all the things that go with it. It's where I find peace.

But give me a spreadsheet or a website to build?? I fall apart. Creating this space online brought me to tears more than once. I trashed seven versions before getting what you see. I felt defeated, overwhelmed and honestly...stupid. It felt like math((shudder))

We are all wired differently. For a reason. Some thrive in boardrooms,some in classrooms. I thrive here,at home, with something in the oven and toys on the floor. Dogs and a cat for company are fine with me. We are all part of the Body.

Maybe you've tried being something you're not - the extroverted go getter, the influencer, the trend setter, and found yourself exhausted and lost. Maybe you've tried #slowliving and want to crawl out of your skin.

Here's a quiet reminder:

You are not a hashtag. You are a soul,designed by God and called to be you. Not a copy of someone else.

I now know why I was getting so aggravated and why it felt so off.

There's no algorithm for authenticity.

still raining

Sloppy Joes

Hiding from the thunder