Sometimes a Coffee Cup is Just a Coffee Cup

The coffee cup story has more to do with perspective than anything. I learned about the coffee cup in a therapy session when I was making more out of a situation than there actually was, based on conspiracy theories without any factual evidence that had nothing to do with me. Regardless, I still needed to compartmentalize all gathered information, fact or figment, into boxes yo best understand it. This has always helped me draw the best possible solution.

Solution to what was the real question. Did any of those details make a difference in the long run? Would or could those details change the outcome if I did? Did those details, fact or possible fiction, serve me positivly or negatively or were they pointless overall? Was it really within my control in the first place?

As we're sitting in the session, my therapist interrupted me and said, "Do you see the cup sitting there?" As she pointed to it I said, "Yes, it's a coffee cup." She said, "Okay, it is a coffee cup. What else?"

I went on to describe it. It was white, tall, and because it was so tall, it had a longer handle. It was obviously for hotter liquids rather than cold and had a tapered opening for decorative and applications. Anyone that knows me personally also knows I could have easily rattled on for another 45 minutes, which is probably why my therapist interrupted me again and said, "Right, but what is it?"

I was confused and now frustrated saying, "It's a coffee cup!" Looking at the cup, she paused, looked back at me and said, "That's exactly right. It's a coffee cup; no more, no less. Sometimes a coffee cup is just a coffee cup. It doesn't matter if it's white, tall, holds hot liquid or cold. At the end of the day, we know it's a cup – for you, it's a coffee cup."

I think about how in my personal life, as a single mom of an 8 year old, between work, social life, and anything else that gets voluntarily or involuntarily added to my calendar, "stuff" can creep up quick. My brain wants to make original order because I fear delayed disaster. I know myself well enough to know when "stuff" gets to an unmanageable degree, that "stuff" can feel pretty claustrophobic in a hurry.

Having said that, I know I am not alone. The struggle IS real and unless you have been living on Lonely Island #543,876, it's safe to say everyone's been affected by the past year's trials and tribulations. I'm not exempt, and from a family perspective where I only have ½ a person living with me, those out there with 2+ children living at home, you are absolute heroes in my mind. Seriously, I salute you.

My dishes are constantly piling up, my non-perishables going anywhere but where they go....sometimes I feel like I'm playing a longer game of "Find It" instead of "Use it". I'd describe laundry, but this isn't an episode of "Hoarders". In short, I've gone from feeling in control and totally on top of things, to feeling out of control and completely behind and that is a HUGE vulnerability of mine.

Feeling out of control, especially when I'm emotionally invested or compromised, could send me down a shame-spiral of no return, as it has repeatedly throughout my life. That scares me, so I begin to feel anxious and the need to control everything around me. Which, is ultimately counter-intuitive and a recipe for disaster or self-destruction. One of the greatest paradoxes of all time: in order to gain control, one must give up control. The fact is, things are being done, and the house is being cleaned. It's just now, with everything happening in the world, most of us work longer hours for less in return, killing ourselves to catch up in the process regardless of how much it stresses us out.

When that happens, I start to feel bad or shameful, as if I'm not meeting my part of the bargain as the nurturer & provider of my home. It makes me think of all the single parents in the world with 3 kids, let alone my 1, having to work 3 jobs so 1 pays for childcare. Who am I to get upset? In fact, why am I not (fill in the blank) enough to do the same?

We're living in a world today where we're saying "thank you" to grocery store clerks and those working odd hours at local fast-food and sit-down joints. The ones making it possible to sit down with our families, eat dinner made from anywhere other than at home. If not for anything to steal back just a few moments, eating dinner from out of a box or through a window, so we can simply enjoy a little self-care, time with our families, and not stress about the world around us....well, at least during dinner.

At the end of the day, it all goes back to the coffee cup. Which is better? Worry about cleaning my house, doing the dishes, and getting things back where they go so I can find them later? Or realizing while the struggle is real, the snuggle is real too?

Yes, I get a little stir crazy when I can't find items rediably available on my home. Yes, when I feel things piling up, it makes me feel doubtful I have everything "under control"; and maybe I don't. Who cares! 'Cause while we're saying "thank you" to those who absolutely deserve it, so do I, and it's important I hear it from myself too.

So, I let the dishes pile up. I figure out where in the salt shaker is today versus yesterday. I clean one thing with my son, satisfying that need to feel accomplished while learning something new with him - enjoying our time together - as a whole and fulfilled family unit.

I'm not saying it works every time, and I'm not saying it works for everybody. What I am saying with all certainty, is that for me and my little one, what matters most for both of us, is us and we are grateful for the time we have been given.

The dishes can wait. What will be, will be. Sometimes a coffee cup is just a coffee cup...and that's okay too.