The Problem with Summer
If you haven’t already gotten there, you are no doubt looking down the barrel at the impending start of summer vacation. In the rural highlands of southeast Idaho, what semblance of school that was remaining officially ended this past week.
Every summer, the last day of school comes, the kids run off the bus screaming, and I put aside my controlling, type A nature. (Or at least, I try…for a couple of months) If you’ve read this blog at all or have followed me on social media, you know that I’m one that revels in living on a schedule and I constantly have my ducks in a row.
It’s a blessing and a curse.
So each June, I make a very concerted effort to let it all go. Let go of the schedule. Let go of the alarm clock. Let go of the perfectly curated monthly meal plan.
Let go of my comfort zone.
Because, while it’s very nice to live in my own bubble, I’m also very aware that everyone in our family, including me, needs a break from our highly orchestrated life.
So we go with the flow. We get ice cream cones on a whim. We stay up a little later. We build forts. We read on hammocks. (This probably all sounds obvious and easy to you, but believe me, it’s hard for me to live on a whim.)
For me, personally, I also say a lot more “no’s” when asked to do something. I try not to do “all the things” during summer, since that’s my natural inclination. I’ve even been known to turn on an out-of-office on my personal email account for a week or two in June so that everyone is well aware that I will not be getting back to them.
In essence, I mentally check out and try to live in the present, recharge, and let it all go.
If you can imagine, my unnatural, forced, care-free spirit lasts only for so long. By the second week of July, I’m already done with back-to-school shopping for the kids. And by the beginning of August, I’m done with carefree mode. And quite frankly, I’m done with all the togetherness.
I need my schedule. I need the kids out of the house. And I need to hear the sound of my own thoughts again.
It turns out, I can only fake who I really am for about 8 weeks of summer.
Herein lies the issue…
Thanks to COVID quarantining, I’ve already been living in the freedom of summer mode for the past 10 weeks.
Yikes.
Can I be honest? I haven’t lost them yet, but I’m afraid I’m going to lose my marbles in the coming weeks. How long can I hold on to my forced summer mode?
If you’re in the same boat, the one that’s on the brink of capsizing, hang in there. I feel you.
This song popped into my Spotify playlist earlier this week. It’s exactly what I needed. It’s a reminder to live in this moment and not jump to August just yet.
I hope you enjoy it too:
