We’ve all been there, life is going along swimmingly, you’re juggling all of your eggs, they’re all lined up in their baskets, then suddenly there’s a tiny little shift and an egg starts to wobble, maybe it rolls to the edge of the table…
Of course, you start to panic, you focus all of your effort and attention on making a flying leap to save that one egg, which probably would have been fine, maybe it might have cracked a tiny little bit but you could have scrambled it and flung it on some toast for lunch!
But no, you jumped, both feet, full on into saving that one egg. Unfortunately, you didn’t realise that you’d kicked the table and your neatly lined up basket of eggs have flown up into the air, ready to come crashing down all around you, to create a horrendous mess which is nearly impossible to clear up.
(We’ve all dropped an egg and screamed at it for being the most ridiculous thing to ever clean up!)
So, let’s recap, you had your eggs all lined up, you lost your s**t and made a big giant mess.
Was that tiny little wobble really worth the huge over exaggerated freak out that you just had?
If you had just taken a step back, accessed the situation, could you have dealt with it differently?
Would it have been so terrible if you’d have just let that one egg roll off the table and smash?
Shrug it off, clean it up and move on.
I know, I hear ya. Things are super stressful when they’re happening and your world is ending. But is it? Really? (I mean if it really is then you have my full approval to throw a wobbler, smash some eggs, jump up and down on them, do what you need to do) But I have many moments where I freak the f**k out over insignificant details.
For instance, I’ve been working for the last 3 or 4 hours, sat at my desk, working away. My son, somewhere in these 3 or 4 hours has “washed up”… and by “washed up” I mean he’s sort of rinsed some plates and glasses that had been festering in his room, failed to notice the bits and pieces that were dotted around the kitchen that also needed washing up, therefore these will be left for the poor soul whose job it is to wash up tomorrow…
Basically, the kitchen looked quite like a bomb had hit it. I really wanted to shout and scream, march upstairs and yell,
“Are you taking the f**king p**s?” then proceed to tell him how hard I work and blah, blah, blah.
But I didn’t. I tidied up a bit, reminded myself that I love my son and it’s not his fault he’s a lazy sod, because nothing is his fault obviously, he’s 14, everything is MY fault.
Plus I can’t shout and scream because Chris is on early shifts and has to be up at 4am, so Christopher you have Chris to thank for being able to escape my wrath this evening…
But, my point, the couple of bits that weren’t washed up were my one egg in this story. I was very close to smashing every egg in the kitchen, literally. I would have gone mad over the one little wobble then my stress over that would have turned catastrophic, eventually I would have ended up down the “Why is my son such a waste of space” route and I would be playing out all of these scenarios where he’s in prison because he didn’t do the washing up correctly… You see where I’m going with this?
Just calm the f**k down.
I am well aware that this may be a blog post aimed directly at myself but feel free to take from it what you will!
Learn to let go of regret and you have enormous capacity to change your life – Norine Dworkin-McDaniel