I Don’t Have Anything to Fix Today

I realized something recently that probably shouldn't feel as strange as it does:

I don't have anything to fix today. There isn't some giant problem sitting in front of me waiting to be solved. There isn't an answer I'm desperately searching for or a situation consuming every quiet moment of my day. Life is just... life right now, and after the year we've had, I almost don't know what to do with that.

For so long it felt like there was always something. Something happening, something changing, something I was trying to understand, process, survive, accept, or figure out. Even when things were technically quiet, my brain wasn't. There was always another thought to untangle. But lately, things have started settling into this strangely ordinary rhythm, and I'm realizing how much I missed ordinary.

Summer is coming to an end, which means our house is about to get loud and busy in an entirely different way than summer break goes. The kids start school next week. I start work again. Sports and school activities are picking back up, our calendar is already filling with practices, games, events, homework, work schedules, and all the running around that comes with having kids. Normally, I'd probably look at that calendar and immediately start mentally organizing everything.

Who needs to be where?

What needs to get done?

What am I forgetting?

But right now, I'm actually looking forward to it. I'm looking forward to backpacks by the door and hearing about everyone's day. I'm looking forward to practices and games and figuring out dinner around whatever activity we have that night. I'm looking forward to going back to work and settling into our school-year routine again not because I suddenly love chaos, but because this kind of chaos feels different. It's life happening.

Maybe that's what I've been craving without realizing it. Normal problems. Normal stress. Normal busy days. The kind of things that don't require some huge emotional breakthrough. They just require a calendar, probably too much coffee, and accepting that somebody is inevitably going to tell me at 9 p.m. that they need something for school the next morning. Then, somewhere in all of this, I'm still working on my book. I'm still finishing school. I'm still reading at night when I need my brain to quiet down. I'm still learning things about myself and processing pieces of this year as they come.

I've also started to reflect on the concept again that healing doesn't have to be my full-time job in the midst of all of this. I don't have to constantly dig through everything that hurt me looking for another lesson. I don't have to turn every good day into a reflection about the bad ones. I don't have to keep checking the parts of me that were hurt to see if they still hurt. Sometimes I can just have a good day. Sometimes I can paint a bedroom, read a book, write a few pages, laugh with my husband, listen to the kids argue over something completely ridiculous, and go to bed without needing the day to mean anything more than that. Maybe that's progress too.

There are still things I'm figuring out. There are still relationships I'm learning how to navigate, feelings that surprise me, and parts of my story that I'm sure I'll write about when I'm ready. Nothing magically became perfect. I think I've just stopped believing that everything has to be perfect before I'm allowed to feel okay.

That's different.

For most of this year, I've been searching for answers.

Who am I after this?

What do I do with what I've learned?

How do I heal from something I can't change?

Where do I go from here?

Maybe I don't need an answer to every question today.

School starts next week. Work starts again. The calendar is filling up. Life is moving forward whether I've completely figured everything out or not, and for once, that doesn't scare me.

Today, there isn't anything I need to solve. There isn't anything I need to fix. There's just my life sitting in front of me.

And I think I'm finally ready to live it.