The Problem With Waiting Until Life Calms Down

"I'll do it when life calms down."

I'm fairly sure I've been saying some version of those words for the last twenty years.

Perhaps you have too.

Over the years, I've attached them to all sorts of things. I'll do it once the children are sleeping better. Once the business is less busy. Once summer is over. Once Christmas is out of the way. Once we've finished decorating. Once we've stopped spending money on the house. Once life feels a little more manageable.

Looking back, I can see that I've always imagined there would come a point where everything would somehow slot neatly into place and I'd finally have that elusive feeling of being on top of things.

The funny thing is, I'm not entirely sure I've ever felt it.

Not because life has been hard. Or because I haven't had wonderful seasons. But because every chapter seems to come with its own version of busy, and just when one thing falls into place, something else appears to take its place.

Not long ago, I found myself thinking about the loft conversion we did nearly nine years ago.

At the time, it felt huge.

We had three children in the house, life was busy and chaotic, and for what felt like months we were living amongst dust sheets, tools and endless decisions. I remember imagining how lovely it would feel once it was finished. You know the feeling I mean. That magical moment where you sit down, admire your hard work and finally feel like you've got your life together.

And for a while, I suppose we did.

Although, if I'm being completely honest, we're still waiting for all the skirting boards to be fitted.

Which probably tells you everything you need to know.

Then a year later, we found out we were expecting Henry.

And life changed again.

Not in a bad way.

Just in the way life tends to.

One chapter gives way to another and, before you've really had time to settle into one season, the next one arrives.

Since then there have been new jobs, growing children, businesses, house projects, countless school runs and, most recently, a puppy who seems to think socks are a food group.

I don't know whether that's adulthood or just me.

Possibly both.

At some point, I think I convinced myself there would come a day when everything would feel done and I would finally get to sit back and enjoy it all.

I'm starting to suspect that day is a myth.

Perfection Is A Moving Target

The funny thing is, I don't actually think this is about house projects.

The bathroom will get done eventually. Or it won't. And life will carry on either way.

I think what I'm really talking about is something much bigger, and if I'm honest, something I see in myself far more often than I'd like.

I think I convinced myself that happiness was waiting on the other side of being organised. That once the jobs were done, the house was finished and everyone else had what they needed, I'd finally get to relax and enjoy it all.

Which, now I come to write it down, sounds slightly ridiculous.

Because I'm beginning to wonder that life was never really supposed to feel finished.

And yet I’m clinging onto the hope that there's this mythical version of me. The one who remembers every school letter, replies to messages on time and never has three half-finished jobs on the go.

But the older I get, the more I suspect she's a bit like the bottom of the laundry basket.

Lovely to imagine, but largely fictional.

For me, it often shows up in small ways. Waiting until I've lost a bit of weight before booking the family photos. Not because I don't want them, and not because I don't know they'll be worth it, but because I'm convinced there's a better version of me just around the corner.

I think I've spent far too many years waiting for her.

Because every time one thing is ticked off, something else takes its place.

And perfection, I've realised, is a moving target.

Maybe This Is It

Which makes me wonder if perhaps we've been asking the wrong question all along.

Not, "When will life calm down?"

But, "What if this is it?"

Not in a dramatic way.

Just in a perhaps-this-life-is-already-pretty-good-even-with-the-unfinished-bathroom kind of way.

Because while I've spent years trying to get on top of life, life has been carrying on around me.

And perhaps that's the irony of it all.

The life I've spent so much time trying to get on top of is actually the very life I once hoped for.

Not every part of it, obviously.

I'm not suggesting for one minute that I dreamt of stepping on Lego or endless school emails.

But the bigger picture? Yes.

The family.

The home.

Work that I genuinely love.

A slightly chaotic life that feels very full.

Years ago, these were the things I was hoping for.

I got so busy managing them that I forgot to stop and notice I'd already arrived.

And perhaps that's what I'm slowly learning.

That life doesn't start once the house is finished, the to-do list is empty.

Perhaps we're allowed to enjoy it now.

And perhaps that's what I'm slowly learning.

Not that life ever really calms down.

But that maybe it doesn't have to.