Burdened With Inadequacy

There is a little piece of truth I hide from myself.  I keep it covered over just beyond the edge of my mind.  Once in awhile, when I'm not careful, it pops up and forces me to see it.  It's only there for a fleeting moment before I avert my gaze and cover it once again so I don't have to face it.

To be candid, if I face this truth full on, if I take it out and examine it, then I will not only have to do something about it, I will have to admit that I have failed.  And one of my biggest fears is failure.

This little piece of truth is not really all that little.  And I'm pretty sure that more than likely what I try to hide from myself is not at all hidden from anyone that knows me.  It's definitely not hidden from God.

But yet, I continue to deceive myself that as long as I don't look at this truth full on, it is not so.

The truth?  I cope.  

That's it.  I cope.  I spend each day getting things done that can no longer be left undone.  I feed people because they require sustenance to live.  I get children up and out the door because they have some place they have to be.  I attend appointments to keep us healthy or looking civilized.  I work because it is income.  I volunteer because it is the one last thread I am trying to hold on to that connects me to a world outside of my home.

Somehow, most things get done.  But they aren't usually done until they have to be done.  And then, they usually aren't done as well as I would want them to be done.   

And that is where I feel I fail.  Because I would like to do this thing called motherhood well.  I would like to do this project of homemaking well.  But I don't.  I dream, I plan, I attempt.  I fail.

I would like to have myself and my family and my home organized with a working routine established.  But I don't.  I would like to have all our meals planned ahead so I'm not scrambling by 5 pm.  But I don't.  I would like to have a cleaning schedule I follow faithfully so I am not up late the night before someone is coming over clearing piles and vacuuming.  But I don't. 

As I struggle with this seemingly endless burden of wallowing in unaccomplished failure, I have begun to ask myself a few questions.  Questions like, where did I get the idea of what our home and life should look like?  Who am I trying to be like?  Do the things I feel I should be doing better truly need changing?  Where does this burden of inadequacy and failure stem from?

I have no answers yet, maybe I never will for some of my questions, but I have started on a journey of trying to uncover who I am vs who I think I should be.  I have a feeling it's not going to be an easy journey.

And I really don't think I am alone.  I think feelings of inadequacy and failure is something that a lot of women struggle with.  Maybe if we stopped comparing ourselves to one another and supported each other instead we might just reshape our worlds.