Lost in the Laundry
In the basement of my 1935 colonial home—Bostonians affectionately call it a “cellar,” you’d find the washer and dryer churning faithfully, day after day. The spiral staircase from the third floor led down to it, and every morning before sunrise, I found myself gripping an overflowing laundry basket, eyes barely open, making that careful descent.
The boys’ bedrooms were on the third floor, the girls on the second. Every hallway had a laundry basket spilling over with the day’s offerings—t-shirts, sports gear, sweat-soaked uniforms, and socks.
Oh, the socks!
The scent of adolescent sweat, hormones, and a thousand practices hit me with such ferocity some mornings I literally gagged. It became a ritual: wake up, sort laundry, carry it down, start a load, flip one to the dryer, and try to get ahead before waking everyone for school.
I was moving, yes. But I didn’t feel like I was going anywhere.
The repetitive nature of caring for my beloved children—who I’d do anything for—sometimes made me feel invisible. Like my days didn’t add up to much. The needle of accomplishment didn’t seem to move forward. It just spun in circles like the washing machine.
Round and round the responsibilities went.
There were days the angst caught up with me and I’d hum the Violent Femmes’ Add It Up, its angsty, punk-rock frustration pulsing in my chest: “Day after day…” It felt honest. A soundtrack to the emotional exhaustion that comes when you're caught in the relentless spin cycle of responsibility and performance.
We can get lost in tasks.
We can get lost in responsibility.
We can get lost in the long list of shoulds.
(I’ve been told I shouldn’t should on myself. Still working on that.)
But here’s what I’ve learned:
“We cannot change what we are not aware of, and once we are aware, we cannot help but change.” – Sheryl Sandberg
The moment I became aware that I was running on auto-pilot, I also became capable of making a shift—small, but powerful. The laundry still had to be done, yes. But I could think differently while doing it. I could reclaim my voice and my value within the repetition.
3 Questions to Begin to Know Yourself
What do I value more than anything, and am I living in alignment with it?
Where do I feel most like me—even if it’s just a spark?
What thoughts or routines do I repeat that make me feel small or invisible?
5 “Shoulds” I Used to Say (and Better Alternatives)
I should be more grateful - VERSUS - I am grateful—and also exhausted. Both can be true.
I should have more energy - VERSUS - My energy reflects my reality. I’m allowed to be tired.
I should enjoy this more - VERSUS - This matters deeply to me—even if it’s not always fun.
I should do it all myself - VERSUS - I’m allowed to ask for help and share the load.
I should be better by now - VERSUS - Growth isn’t linear. I’m still learning and evolving.
Instead of “Should,” Try These Verbs:
I choose to…
I’m learning to…
It’s important to me that…
I’m noticing…
I want to try…
It's Not That I “Should” Enjoy Doing Laundry—So What Do I Tell Myself?
This is a quiet moment to serve my family with love—even if it’s smelly.
There’s dignity in the ordinary. I’m still showing up.
I’m more than what I do. Even here, I get to bring awareness and care.
We don’t need to escape the cycles of our lives to rediscover ourselves—we just need to wake up inside them. Even in a cellar full of socks.
Let awareness be the first load you wash.
