The Lunch Box That Taught Me About Shame and Ease
You know those moments when you realize something small has been making life way harder than it needs to be?
For me, one of those was lunch packing.
Everyone in my house has a sensitive system — different wiring, different needs, different rhythms. Add my own ADHD to that, and routines can be... let’s say “extra.”
For years, we packed lunches the “right” way: reusable containers, stainless steel utensils, matching lids, labels, all of it. Eco-friendly, responsible, very "now." Except it wasn’t working.
Half the containers went missing on the regular. The ones that made it home might end up in accidental hiding places, only to be found after they developed their own personalities and were discarded in the garbage. I spent a truly absurd amount of time looking for spoons - and, yes, they are still missing! It sounds silly, but it was this constant background stress that made our days feel heavy before the sun came up.
Over the years, we’ve made many creative changes to make things work for our household, and one pattern I’ve noticed is that after the breakdown repeats itself and we’ve been banging our heads against the proverbial wall trying to “just do it better,” comes the moment of surrender — to the breakdown, to our hurt pride, to honoring that it's just not working. And this is the moment when the real shift begins to happen — the surrender that allows a new solution to emerge.
“Ease isn’t the absence of challenge — it’s the presence of alignment. It’s the moment you stop wrestling with what’s broken and start tending what’s real.”
So, one day, we surrendered. After yet another container turned science experiment, hubs and I wondered out loud, 'What if...' What if we switched to disposable? So we tried it. We went with all compostable containers and utensils. That was it. I gave myself permission to try something that didn’t fit the “shoulds.”
And you know what? It was like the air changed. It was palpable relief for all of us, especially our kiddo. We gained back some mental energy when we stopped chasing the lunch materials. Most importantly, though, we eliminated what was causing us all to be in a constant shaming and shame cycle, as we all bothered each other with constant reminders about supplies or had to buy new ones repeatedly. What we gained back in confidence and kindness to ourselves and one another was priceless.
Here’s the thing: ease isn’t laziness. Ease is wisdom.
When something small keeps creating friction — the lunch boxes, the morning routine, the way you talk to yourself about what you should be doing — it’s okay to try a different way. Maybe that new way is temporary. Maybe it’s permanent. The point is: you get to choose what brings ease to your system.
This one change didn’t make our lives perfect. It just made it lighter. It keeps us more connected rather than how breakdowns keep us disconnected. And that made all the difference.
So, ask yourself, "What little thing is causing my distress?" and then give yourself the gift of asking, "What if?" Start here, try it a different way. See how it feels.
You got this. Ease isn’t the end goal; it’s the path.
Ease isn’t the absence of challenge — it’s the presence of alignment. It’s the moment you stop wrestling with what’s broken and start tending what’s real.
If this kind of reflection sparks something for you — if you’re curious about what “ease” might look like in your body, home, or health — come join my newsletter community. That’s where I share the full juicy stories, the deeper layers, and the “how to really do it” part.
