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making the bed.

liz lamoreux

At around 12:30 AM on January 1st, I made Jon help me put clean sheets and a different duvet cover on our bed because I just couldn't sleep in 2016 sheets. Silly, perhaps. But sometimes we just need to feel like we have some control.

The next morning, I made the bed. Later that day when our daughter was in our room, she said, "Who made your bed?" This should reveal a lot to you my friends. 

We've been making it every day since.

It feels like such a simple but profound act of attention. A way of saying to myself (and Jon) that I care enough about us to set this one thing back upright again before diving into the day.

Here's the truth: I've never really made my bed. I'm not a neat person. (I feel like) I have too much to do or say or write or experience to stop and upright things all the time. 

And I've had an internal battle hanging out inside me about that "truth" at different moments throughout my adult life. It came in like a lion last year when we were moving. Which resulted in me releasing some of the layers of shame of not living a life that is as organized or "neat" or ready for a magazine shoot like my mother's home or the homes I see on Pinterest or Instagram or in my head.

It's an ongoing releasing adventure as I continue to be honest with myself about this: There are stories that aren't our stories that we carry. And then there are our stories that we need to own and be truthful about how they're keeping us stuck.

Maybe you relate to pieces of this.

My point? Somehow this little act of making the bed, for 12 days now, has become a symbol of how I can turn the page on all those old stories. Perhaps even rewrite them.

I smile every single time I see that bed with those pillows stacked up and cozy wool blanket tossed across it. Even when it is a bit messily made. Even when clean laundry and two boxes I still haven't unpacked (since last summer) and Jon's pile of who knows what on his side hang out all around the room.

Because I'm making at least one move each day toward the life I imagine with this little gesture of attention.

Today though, instead of making any profound statements about how I've changed or how I expect to be making it for the rest of my life, I'm just noticing and gathering evidence and holding myself a little more accountable by telling you about it, too.