How can I find my sense of self when I can't even find my car keys

My journey bagan 40 years ago and now that i've passed that milestone I want to up the ante in creating a clear sense of Self. The problem is that most days I struggle to find my car keys and get my 4 and 7 yr old boys out of the house on time with everything they need for the day, preferably with teeth cleaned and food in their belly. Hair style for me and them is entirely optional.

The latest book i'm reading joins many of the other books i've read in saying that finding my sense of self will open the path to contentment. After an empty and isolated childhood with an absent but narcissistic mother and an unavailable workaholic father there didn't seem to be much self to base life choices on.

For years I've been doing the dot to dot puzzle that joins up the dissparate bits and see what image emerges. I've travelled on The Road Less Travelled, whilst trying to Run With the Wolves. I've read great books and talked great conversations, joined personal development groups and led them too; I've peeled away many layers and in fact I am well on my way....

The journey that lies ahead seems potholed and monochrome, and so I welcome the quiet space that allows me to paint and fill the path. But as a solo mum on the breadline with two fantastic boys living in a house that needs renovating and a beautiful large dog to walk that space seems barely big enough to enjoy a cuppa.

Reading a book seems manageable; it feeds my intellect and warms the soul and provides some welcome mind food to masticate on whilst enslaved to servitude. But just as i'm getting stuck into the chapter of 'How to Find and Heal Yourself" (Trapped In the Mirror - Elan Golomb) AJ wants toast, JS wants the computer on, and the dog just wants me. Ticking these off one by one I notice the washing machine has finished its cycle, which I put on the line and I'm standing in the spot long enough that the cat thinks she's in with a chance. The feline opportunist does the cutest belly roll exposing the softest white fur and who can resist?

So whilst I put the kettle on in anticipation of getting back to my Self, I quickly unload the dishwasher. Tea in hand back in the comfy chair I manage another couple of pages before round two starts again.

I try hard to keep myself grounded, for I have dysthymia, the prettier and nicer sibling to depression. Dysthymia wears pastel to Depression's clashing colours. Anyway to inch my way out I do need to work out some new ground rules and understand old patterns but what pulls me back is the mudane and endless tasks that come from being a Mum of a two young boys and the relentlessness of being cook, cleaner, teacher, driver, gardener in between the times that I'm not cleaning other peoples houses just to make ends meet.

It is ironic that to help with my healing and discovery of self I spent all my spare time and cash renovating the sleepout over 6 months of my weekends when the boys are with their father. Choosing more hard labour to build A Room of One's Own wore me down physically but gives me a space for my projects, music and quiet but as yet my creative mojo is still waiting to be released from the dysthimia.

So it seems that the meditaion, the art projects, the staring at the clouds are still out of reach. They are yet to appear on the metaphorical things to do list. For now my spiritual time comes from walking the dog down to the river and recognising there is space within this task. I light candles when I know I will be spending a while in my disliked tiny 70's kitchen. I remember sometimes to have music fill the room that I am cleaning. I'm even making a real effort to be mindful when I put my keys down.

In these small ways the overworked and sometimes overwhelmed self can make room for the light and happy self to emerge and be noticed. I have many blessings in and around me which can't compete with the ticking clock, the lost car keys, the hungry bellies and hungrier minds, but let that Self not be forgotten either for she is most precious too.