My kids (and I) hit a wall the first week of January.

Fifteen minutes into the first day back at school I had a rather large revolt at my homeschool table. No one wanted to learn anything new, but they did want to practice what they learned a long time ago: how to push each other’s buttons. (Picture a toddler mashing every button in the elevator of a 100-story high rise and you get the idea.) By the end of Monday I was enthusiastically patting myself on the back for holding it together. I was hopeful because Tuesday was a new day. We rarely have a bad school day tip over into the next. So when Tuesday was, in fact, far worse than Monday, I seriously considered just quitting for the week.

However, I'm nothing if not stubborn. I’m the eternal problem solver who says, "We can fix this!" And that’s what I was going to do.

But, no. I was in tears by 9:30 on Wednesday morning. You get the gist. It was bad; probably the worst week of the school year so far—capped off with an argument with my husband over something stupid: errands. Well done, Audra. Well done. Not exactly the "Year of Hope" that 2021 was promised to be.

Like I said, I’m nothing if not stubborn. I still went on that errand that had prompted my blow-up. Alone. And I had 30 minutes of glorious silence to think, to reflect. What went wrong? What could I have done better? Had my attitude negatively influenced my kids? Had I set this tone?

Then I realized what had quietly rubbed me the wrong way since mid-December, you know, that stretch when every single podcast and blog post—everyone it seemed—was hopeful for 2021. 2021 was to be the year of, "It's not 2020, it's the year of hope." Or, "We made it through the hardest year, you guys!"

Not me. I felt like I was straddling the border between 2020 and 2021 wondering what was supposed to change, exactly, when the ball dropped and the calendar flipped from December to January.

During my drive I realized what the problem was. It’s not that I lacked hope. Between laughing at the (admittedly hilarious) memes about 2020 and setting up my 2021 planner, I just hadn’t fully prepared for 2021. Or at least not the way I needed to. I hadn’t done enough. I hadn’t grieved yet.

Of course, I had grieved for 2020 back in March, at the start of the pandemic. I acknowledged that the rest of the year was not going to be normal. I had grieved the loss of normal, the loss of seeing family far away, the loss of school the way it had once been, and the loss of...all of it. You know what I mean. You lost things, too. While our eyes are always looking forward, always hoping, the reality is that the first half of 2021 still holds many of the same frustrations we were hoping to get away from.

The new year didn’t bring any escape. The first week of January had to let us down, because it was “next year,” but it wasn’t “all better.”

I have found that if I don't give grief some space to be processed, it will force its way to the surface when I don’t want it to. Unaddressed grief will obscure the joy in my circumstances and the blessings I enjoy. I will straight up wallow in grief if given the chance. But when I make appropriate space for grief, then everything shifts.

If there was one thing that I've learned from my walks in the valley of grief, it's that grief needs to be named. Seen. Called out. Even honored. You can’t rush past grief. It's the preface of the book that tells you the important backstory so that you can turn to chapter one knowing exactly what to expect. I have found that giving grief a name and a space in your heart allows for more joy and hope to replace it. This leads to healing.

If you've found yourself frustrated that 2021 feels kind of exactly like 2020 and you thought we were past all that: you are not alone. It's OK to grieve whatever bits of 2021 aren't as different as what you had promised yourself. It's OK to weep for the first part of this year. It's OK to write down all your frustrations, all your worries—uncensored and ugly. It's OK to stare down the truth exactly as it is. It's OK to be not OK right now.

The first part of this year may not look much like the "Year of Hope," but that’s fine. There is still peace to be found in grieving the fact that we’re facing another season of things not being where we want them to be.

And in doing so, we give space for hope.

Eyes always forward.

February’s Mix

When it comes to diffuser blends, I tend to find a combination that I love and then shamelessly fill my diffuser with the same thing for basically the entire month. Kind of like a good playlist. You too? Then this is the only ~~recipe~~ mix (see what I did there?) you need this month. It's perfect for chilly, cloudy winter days.

Sunshine

5 drops Grapefruit
2 drops Joy

Both of these oils are considered “happy” oils—oils that are designed to elevate our mood. Smell is our only sense that activates the limbic system, which is the part of our brain that controls our emotions. That’s why I tend to have at least one of our seven diffusers (don't judge) running at some point during our day—it helps us stay calm.

You can download my February Diffuser Calendar for more options to do the same in your own home. Or, if you want a pretty version of my February Mix to share with a friend, download it here.