2020 is the Year to Quit Playing Small.

We all consider, at some point, the idea of setting New Year’s resolutions, goals, and/or intentions. In my own experience, I’ve half-assed all of the above in the past. This year, I figured it would all just “come to me” on it’s own.

I’ve been able to set some intentions in my mind, and with a planner, and I even picked a word for 2020, “CREATE” — Genius.

However, there are more burning topics in my mind lately and for the betterment of my life, I’m trying to take a deep look into what’s not working anymore. I don’t want to just live and go through the motions. Thrive, not merely survive. I want a happy life, where all efforts go towards happiness and positivity and to be able roll with the punches and bounce back and move through, but to also know when and where it’s time to remove whatever is toxic.

Let me start by clarifying what playing small is: experiencelife.com says “Playing small means our actions are motivated by our fears, insecurities, low self-worth, and scarcity. It’s impulsive, reactive — and often frantic. Playing big means our actions are motivated by what brings us true fulfillment and deep satisfaction. It is slower, focused, and more deliberate.”

I constantly play small. And not only that, but everything I do work at or succeed with or spend my time doing, I downplay. I’m 12 days postpartum today with my 4th (and last) child and I have successfully downplayed all of it. I have said, “oh she sleeps just fine,” and “labor and delivery was great, no big deal,” and “she’s my 4th, I’ve got this under control.” Well SURPRISE! It’s not easy. It SUPER FREAKING HARD having 4 children, ages 5 and under. The last three, I basically had a 10 month break in between each pregnancy, and that’s it. My body has been stretched and depleted over and over again. Please don’t get me wrong, I wouldn’t change a thing, I love my rather large family. I’m 35, this was my time to do it, but it doesn’t mean that it isn’t really fucking hard.

My body feels like it was hit by a truck, my boobs hurt from nursing, my pelvic region feels achy and weird, my organs are trying to get situated again, and anytime I have to poop (which is met with an anxious anticipation) it’s like someone sticks a knife into your intestines and twists. It isn’t pleasant, to say the least. And don’t forget! You now have a newborn you’re responsible for keeping alive, so in between the bathroom breaks and showers to try and feel normal, you take care of her.

Sarah Chrosniak, A Place to Flop

Motherhood, mental health, grief, & creativity intersect here. Exploring living a better life to have a better death. and other taboo subjects..