Editing My Inner Narrative

Often it isn’t the world outside of my head that causes me the most grief.
Often it is the world inside my head.
I’m learning to edit my inner narrative.
The constant soundtrack that plays across my days and that often acts to shape my reactions rather than laying a foundation for mindful response.

Where did my soundtrack come from?

It feels like instinct. Some of it is, certainly. But often the soundtrack itself is a repetition of things that I heard other people say to me when I was a child. Things that other people have said about children before I even had children of my own. Things that people say about their kids NOW. Funny memes that feel like commiseration but that replay in moments where I need something more calm and maybe a little less relatable.

Yes. I am tired. And Yes. My child is not sleeping currently because of some growth spurt or developmental leap (or both) that makes her wake up trying to latch onto my nose a million times a night.

The words I choose to use across the day to describe my tiredness to myself.. Matter.
The words I choose to use to describe my tiredness to others.. Matter.

Sometimes venting feels like a release.
Sometimes venting is more like fanning a fire.

Wren did not sleep last night.
I am tired.
Wren is having a hard time sleeping because she is growing.
She needs more support at night now. More help sleeping.
Wren is having a hard time during the day, too. Because she is tired, too.
She does not want to be put down.
I need to make sure that I am getting food in my belly.
I need to make sure that I am taking my vitamins.
I need to make sure that I have the caffeine that helps me during the day.
And I need to make sure that I do not have any coffee after 4PM because if I do, I will not get the sleep that I need and that I am able to get.

It is accurate.
And it doesn’t fuel my anger and frustration. (Which sometimes DO need an outlet before they burst.)

Sometimes I need to vent.
Sometimes I need to find my calm.

Sometimes I can listen to others vent and find humor in shared frustration.
Other times I absorb too much of what I read and hear.

I don’t believe in ignoring feelings or repressing them. They find a way out.
I am getting better at lovingly acknowledging my own frustrations and helping myself make peace with them as a place we are all passing through.

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