How Much Can Your Two Hands Hold?

Single Parenting Is Tough and Stressful

Once upon a time, I was a single parent in the truest sense of the word. I was the sole provider and parent for my daughter, Harper. Though I had some help from my family, at the end of the day, it all fell on me.

As rough as that can be, there were benefits that I never anticipated. Teaching Harper to ride her bike was one. Had I been married, I would never have attempted this. I would have left it to my imaginary husband and trusted him to do a good job.

As a single parent, you don’t get that option.

It was a tough time for us. My work was going through what would be the first of three mergers over an 18-month period, I was still recovering from some pretty serious financial damage I’d created during my last hypomanic episode, and this little creature was wholly dependent on me.

Finally, my (new) boyfriend and I, though on a clear path to marriage, were in the stickiest parts of figuring out how and when to blend our families and the chaos that process creates. Harper and I had just moved again, and I was learning a new city and how to navigate through it.

I was a total stress ball.

Yet, I had watched Harper look at her bike, a present from the prior Christmas, with longing. She wanted to ride that bike. I mentioned it to my boss, who suggested picking up a paddle bike as a learning tool, first.

At $200, that was definitely not going to happen.

I ended up taking Harper to the schoolyard where she would be attending Kindergarten in a few months. Over the course of the afternoon, I coaxed her and encouraged her.

She could make it a couple of wobbly feet, but she was too afraid to let go and just listen to my coaching. She was ready to give up.

Finally, I told her to give it one last go, just to follow my guidance that one time and then we would be done for the day.

And she took off. And she kept going. It was so unexpected, and she picked up so much speed that she had to figure out how to steer on the fly. Then, I realized I was so focused on getting her to move on the bike that I never taught her how to stop the bike.

Thankfully, she figured it all out on her own. She rode her bike for another hour around that yard, relishing her new accomplishment.

After this, I bought a bike, and we started doing joint rides along a river trail near our apartment complex.

Too Many Directions!

As we rode down the street to the trailhead, I would keep coaching her. “Keep to the right of the street!” “Watch your hands!” “Your bike follows your eyes; don’t look off to the side!” “Slow down!”

Finally, she hit a breaking a point. “Mom, too many directions!” she called back to me. “I have only these two hands!”

I have only these two hands.

How did my five-year-old come into this kind of wisdom?

Her words had two effects on me: first, I backed off on the coaching. I gave her more room to make mistakes and fall.

Secondly, I sat on those words for at least the next week.

How Much Could My Two Hands Hold?

In the midst of all my stress, I’d never considered that maybe I had taken on too much. Maybe moving to be closer to my boyfriend was good for our relationship, but too much for my stress levels.

Maybe moving farther away from my parents, who were my primary support during the first few years of Harper’s life, was not such a good idea.

Maybe six months of commuting Harper up to her preschool – more than 30 miles away – until she started kindergarten at her new school was too much.

Maybe trying to save money and pay off credit cards at the same time was too much.

Maybe looking for a new job in the midst of all this was too much.

In my head, I looked at each item and could honestly say it was a good decision. My boyfriend (now my husband) looked at our relationship differently and more seriously now that we lived closer to each other. My move was a level of commitment that he decided to match.

Losing my parents was a short-term pain; if this relationship worked out as I hoped and reasonably expected, it would compensate strongly for the loss of their close presence.

Harper had already had a lot of change. This was her third address in just four years; changing her preschool only six months before starting kindergarten anyway felt like pouring salt into the wounds of change. How do you not do what is needful to care for your child’s emotional needs?

The financial situation was critical. I needed a cash cushion to make my living situation work while my boyfriend and I worked on our longer-term relationship. I needed not to be fully dependent on him. I hate budgeting. Watching money that closely causes me stress.

The only thing that was entirely out of my control was the political machinations happening in my Fortune 1000 company. Looking for a job and actively interviewing was necessary to make sure I didn’t land in another crisis.

Each of these, taken singly, was painful and difficult but manageable.

Taken all together, I had filled my two hands, Harper’s two hands, my boyfriend’s two hands (and he had his stuff to handle, as well), and more. I filled more than six hands with my situation.

A Pattern Emerges

As I continued to mull over Harper’s words, I saw a pattern in my life of taking on much more than I could handle. Each time, it was done with the best of intentions. Each time, I could look at each item and say, “Yes, but this is the right thing to do here.”

In my desire to do everything right and be the person others expected me to be, I created a stressful situation for myself and everyone around me.

It was time to acknowledge that God only gave me two hands, and my hands don’t hold as much as his.

This is one of the toughest lessons I’ve ever had to learn and honestly, it’s been a painful process. I regularly have to take inventory of my stress levels and ask myself, “What’s in my hands today? What can wait?”

It’s amazing how easy these little extra tasks and projects can sneak onto my priority list.

Taking inventory means letting go of projects and tasks that I know are “the right thing to do.” It’s meant moving slower than I would like and having more patience. It’s meant saying ‘no’ to people I respect and love.

It’s meant trusting people, perhaps the hardest part of all.

Pruning my list inevitable leaves me feeling freer. I’m less stressed, so I’m kinder and more helpful. I am more of the person I desire to be. By being careful to fill my two hands – and my two hands only – I’ve taken pressure off myself, my marriage, and my family.

I’ve learned that going slower means I do better work. My “good enough” mark for finishing a project is much higher than it once was. I don’t re-do as much work as I once did. That brings me peace.

I have only these two hands. And they are enough.

Have you ever taken on more than you can handle? How did you respond?