I could write a book about being overwhelmed. Here are some possible titles: You’re Over Your Head, DON’T Do the Impossible, Exhausted Woman, or Breathe Mama. As I write these book titles, I hear my mom’s voice, “Dari, you’re taking on too much.” That could also be a catchy book title. When I reach a pinnacle point over my head in a project, I have two choices: 1. retract inward under a blanket in the fetal position 2. Keep working. I always end up using choices one and two. 

Francis Webster, an early pioneer who encountered extreme early winter weather in 1956, says, “I have pulled my handcart when I was so weak and weary from illness and lack of food that I could hardly put one foot ahead of the other. I have looked ahead and seen a patch of sand or a hill slope and I have said, I can go only that far and there I must give up, for I cannot pull the load through it.” Although we do not face the challenges the early pioneers did, sometimes our modern-day handcarts are overburdened. 

The state of ‘being overwhelmed’ reminds me of when the Bishop of our ward called me to be the Ward party’ person’ in 2010. The three of us sit comfortably on my olive green couches in my living room. The warm-toned oak floors match the recently painted red walls. The new windows my husband installed last fall create an inviting feeling. I look up from my long ‘to-do’ list for the upcoming party. “Okay, I have one last idea I want to discuss for the ward party.” The two women on the committee looked at me and nodded for me to continue. “It would be nice to make some Dutch oven desserts. What do you guys think?” They hesitate, and Amber says, “I don’t think having dessert at the dinner is necessary. We have a lot going on already. Do you want to take that on?” I dialed into their facial expressions, and I could read their mannerisms. When she said, ‘Do I want to take it on?’ She meant to say that she didn’t want any part in helping with the Dutch ovens and that her plate was full. I take the silent exchange of thoughts and respond, “I want to have a dessert for the ward party. It’s a summer celebration. I will go ahead and take that responsibility.” After the words roll off my tongue, I have an uneasy feeling. I dismissed the feeling, and we all nodded, agreeing. As everyone was walking to their cars, I called out the time and date of the party, and they both turned and reassured me that they would be there to help with the party.  

I close the big wooden front door behind them. I hear my baby babbling in his crib in the back room. I put him down for a nap to concentrate on my meeting for the upcoming party. I walk down the short hallway and motion to my girls. They are playing in the closet above the stairs. My husband and I turned it into a playroom. I open the door to my baby’s room, and he smiles as his arms reach me. Addy runs from her room as soon as she knows he is awake. She tousled his loose brown curls and kissed his cheek.

The following day, my phone started ringing. I checked the Caller’s I.D., and it was Amber, one of the committee members. I answer the phone, “Hello?” She responds with a short delay in her voice. “Hi Dari, I am calling to let you know that something came up, and I won’t be able to attend the church for the party.” I roll my eyes as I walk around the rectangular living room, listening to her. So many thoughts are running through my head. There are some calculations and a few images that I won’t mention. It doesn’t take long to realize that I will only have one other person and me to feed 125 people. I respond with my irritation covered up, “Okay.” She interjects, “No worries because I will have the meat ready and drop it off an hour before the Ward party starts.” I nod and breathe a little sigh of relief. I tell her to be safe over the weekend, and we end the call. 

I walk into my kitchen, where my notes sit on the table. I look over my checklist 

• Set up 5:45
• Meat (Amber/drop off) 
• Side salads -sign up (call and give a reminder) 
• Buns 
• Utensils (cups, forks, plates, napkins, plastic tablecloths (8))
• Two five-gallon beverage coolers (one lemonade, one water)
• BBQ Sauces 
• Assorted chips 
• Veggie tray
• Games/apples for bobbing, two galvanized tubs filled with water, trivia questions, and misc.  

I feel dread as I look at this last bullet point. Because I have labeled myself a finisher, I will finish what I started. 

• Six dutches (two chocolates, two peaches, two pineapples) Dutch ovens, matches, briquettes, chimney, paper, lighting fluid 

I swallow hard as I realize the Dutch ovens aren’t crucial to the end-of-summer bash. I feel uneasy about making all of them. This feeling inside is my second prompting for ditching the Dutches. I stare at the last bullet, and I reassure myself that I’ll be fine. I get up from the table and double-check my stash of paper products sitting on top of my dryer on the back porch. I walk into the old garage and look at the wooden shelves above the dirt floor for our Dutch ovens. I make a mental note to pick up some briquettes and purchase a chimney to light the charcoal. 

Finally, after days of planning and prepping, the ward party is only a few hours away. I arrive at the church parking lot a few minutes early. I start unloading the back of my car. I always have pre-party jitters when I am the one in charge. My daughters start unloading bags full of food, paper products, and decorations from the trunk. I directed them to put the items on one of the worn wooden tables inside the picnic shelter. I look down at my phone and am a few minutes early. I noticed a new text on my phone. I flip open my blue phone with letters assigned to each number. The message reads from my other committee member, “Hey! I am not going to be at the ward party. My kids have the stomach flu. You got this!” I audibly make an off-colored comment. My daughter looks at me, “MOM!” I immediately say I am sorry. “I have just got myself in a little situation. The only person coming to help me just backed out. They were going to help me with the briquettes. I have never done them before.” I stare at the six black Dutch ovens on the grass filled with fruit, flour, and sugar. I start to panic. Then I remembered someone who was always there to help me. 

I need help! After I received the devastating text, I called my husband. He is working on a house three hours away from Idaho Falls. I know he will show up and help me—he always does. 

Let me explain to you a little bit about him: 

• He constructed a giant wooden pergola in one day so I could have a garden party that evening. 
• He gets up early to make a healthy breakfast for the kids and then all their lunches. When he gets home from work, he washes up and asks, “How can I help?” 
• He keeps the fluids topped off in our cars. Plus, oil changes BONUS! 
• He does all the mechanics on our cars (Thanks to YouTube) 
• He has remodeled every house we have lived in. “perfectly.”
• He refills everything. (Olive oil, detergent, dish soap, etc.) 

If there ever were a person who came close to being called a modern-day ‘Father Theresa,’ it would be my husband.  

In addition to having a saint for a husband, I know he will come through for me, and I will be able to relax a little bit. I called, and he did not pick up on the first try. I try again-nothing. Finally, on the third try, he picks up. I can barely hear him on the other end. “Dar…Hi… Workin-Latr-Sorry-love” I lost his call. 

I look around me. There’s nothing left to do but fall on the grass and pound the earth, screaming and kicking. I regress. I could hide in the janitor’s closet and camouflage myself with the cleaning products. No, there are too many germs. I could hide in the bathroom stall. Yuck- they could be cleaner. I look around the picnic shelter for a place to stow away. 

I momentarily give up, and I retract inward. I collapse on my knees next to the brown wooden shelter. I have a large crowd to feed by myself and six Dutch ovens to prepare. I need to figure out where to start. My baby happily kicks in his car seat and looks up at me. Sidnee and Addy come over to check on me and kneel at my sides. I am in the perfect position to offer a prayer.

I know the clock is ticking, so I offer a heartfelt prayer. Then, I pull myself up from the green grass and start working. I lit the charcoal chimney several times, and on the third try, it finally lit. The charcoal starts to smoke. I internally praise myself for a tiny success. I find a safe, sturdy spot on the cement on the edge of the shelter to line out the Dutch ovens. I check the clock every fifteen minutes and continue pushing through. I pour the briquettes onto a large griddle, then place three dutches on them. I pour more briquettes on top of the ovens and then stack the rest of the desserts. I cover the black lids with the remaining charcoal and pray it will work.   

I direct my girls to cover the wooden tables with plastic tablecloths. I grab my list and unload items from the grocery bags onto the covered tables like Speedy Gonzales. Forty-five minutes go by in a flash, and I see cars pulling into the parking lot. I hug my girls around me and thank them for their efforts. I walk over to the glowing charcoal and lift the lid to the upside-down pineapple cake, a miracle. I can smell the cobblers cooking. Ice-cold lemonade fills the orange coolers, the meat is ready to serve, and the jello jiggles as helpers walk it over to the serving table. I walk behind the shelter and say a few sincere words of gratitude to my Heavenly Father. First, I apologize for the many warnings of trying to help me from the beginning. Second, you have always guided and helped me pull it together.  

Overall, the party was a hit! The food was on point, the men bobbed for apples, and the desserts were nearly perfect. I was grateful when the day was over. I fell into bed, exhausted from the party. It was a day I would never want to relive again. I have ended up in situations where I want to retract from my responsibilities. I am going to hold back and rely on my discretion.

Retraction comes from being overwhelmed. Here are a few suggestions you can try to help with pull back from a problematic situation:

1. Listen to the Holy Spirit. I received several warnings to cancel the order of eight Dutch oven cobblers. If I had cooked a dessert I was familiar with, I could have handled the dinner by myself.

2. Schedule in personal time. When you feel overwhelmed, take a walk, take a 20-minute power nap, or make arrangements for something you enjoy. Taking a short break can help improve your performance.

3. Know your limits. I pushed myself beyond my limits. I had never double-stacked eight desserts in my life! My husband always took care of those things. Over time, I have learned to recognize my bounds. I’m a work in progress!

Resources:

 Christensen , D. J. (2016). . Deseret Book Company.

I have pulled my handcart when I was so weak and weary from illness and lack of food that I could hardly put one foot ahead of the other. I have looked ahead and seen a patch of sand or a hill slope and I have said, I can go only that far and there I must give up, for I cannot pull the load through it.” Francis Webster

 

The Importance of Taking Breaks

https://www.mentalhealthfirstaid.org/2021/03/how-to-take-care-of-yourself-when-youre-feeling-overwhelmed