I heard this quotation applied to motherhood and life in general long ago, but never has it seemed more fitting for me. Between laundry, dishes, preparing food, etc., there really doesn't seem to be any time for self care. There are times when it is like I have taken on another child. Here is one example. My dad will sit down and Akasha will run over yelling, "I was going to sit there!!!" Really? This is the kind of thing she does with her brother!
Or it will look like this in the space of a minute: "Can you make me some fried eggs?" "Can you read this thing on my computer?" "Do you know where my coffee cup is?" "Can you throw the ball for me?" (OK that last one was just implied by the dog, not spoken lol.) I just try to remember to say yes. But not in that bad way of overextending myself (most of the time). I learned a little mental trick from a friend years ago. Saying yes doesn't have to mean that exact second. If I say "in a few minutes", it might be met with the dreaded, "No, noooooooooooooooooooooow." When I say yes, people tend to go back to what they were doing and I can take a few minutes to JUST BREATHE.
This is about the extent of my self care these days - stopping to breathe and doing a little bit of writing. I know I need to work on it, but one step at a time. I don't always say yes, and I am finding myself becoming more and more short tempered, impatient and generally abandoning many of my parenting standards. So I know something needs to shift. I am not sure what that will look like now, but knowing it is half the battle, right?
Oh hon, this is such a hard place to be. Everything I think of to say seems trite, but know that there are people out here who have been through the sort of situation you are in, who have survived, and learned, and eventually thrived. I think about you a lot, and curse the distance that means I can't sit with your father and / or children, give you a hug, cook you a meal, do the dishes, or clean your bathroom. I remember staying up way too late, just to get a little alone time. I remember feeling like I was inside a glass bubble, screaming, but no one heard. I remember the sense of being alone in the crowd yet never alone. I remember the heavy burden of responsibility crushing down on me. But it did pass, and there was sadness and relief and a lightening eventually. And now my parents are both dead, my sons are all grown, and this week I am guiltily taking pleasure in my grandson being sick, just a cough, but enough to keep him home from school and for me to share hugs and be responsible and feel useful to someone else. So just hang on in there, breathe (as you said) and grab any and every little moment to care for yourself, even just taking a cup of coffee to a quiet spot for five minutes without taking the laundry that needs folding with you. This time WILL pass. xxx
ReplyDelete