There's no sense to the chaos, I guess by definition, chaos is not ordered or confined. So I shouldn't be surprised by it.
But it's not like me, I'm an organized and controlled kind of girl, so the fact that my brain feels like muddy, thick, murky, pasty soup is pretty unsettling.
It's unsettling in part because the things occupying my mental space are usual and ordinary things - homeschooling, kids' activities, home projects (yes the Christmas decorations did in fact get put away, only a month after Christmas but a victory is a victory, no matter how scrubby the win, I'll take it).
But in addition to all the day to day responsibilities there is this little thing called my blog, which exists in service of growing a business. And growing a business requires so many parts and pieces, so many components to be written and developed and constructed and created and edited and revised and tested and and and and and. The list is daunting right now.
It surprises me how daunting it is. The last 17 years I managed to keep a non-profit going, working at home (mostly) while caring for the kids, homeschooling, teaching fitness, carrying surrogate babies, and keeping up with my own creative projects. Now that the non-profit (and my job) is no more, I feel like I'm barely keeping my head above water.
What the hell is going on? (yes I ask myself this all the time lately). My work space is under so many piles of projects yet to be realized - quilt competitions to enter, belated Christmas gifts to make (don't ask), blog tutorials to write, products to develop. And a business to define along the way. All of it spinning in endless circles it seems.
So when I happened upon Alexandra Franzen's fill-in-the-blank mini exercise promising laser-lucidity on who I am and what I do, I couldn't resist. OK, I did resist. (busted, how did you know?) I started it and got stuck and decided to go to bed. I'd nearly closed the laptop when I talked myself out of that poor decision (even though it was much too late) and I made myself type it out.
I hesitated, and I got stuck again. I typed again and I faltered. I came close to going to bed a second time. Then I told myself not to worry, not to judge, just type anything that seems to make sense and I would clean it up later. So following the template of the exercise, I typed:
My name is Susan.
I'm a homeschooling mother, a natural-born teacher and a maker.
Ultimately, all my work is about helping parents find ways to connect with their kids through creative projects.
(Because relationships are built on shared experiences.)
This is what I do.
And I am not confused.
And I didn't have anything to clean up.
What's most clear to me now? That I have a lot to thank Alexandra Franzen for.