Category: Self-Care

Posted on

Ebb & Flow: the Ritual of Self-Care

The last two nights my daughter and I have settled down before bed with a cup of ginger tea, some light snacks and watched an episode of Gilmore Girls. We’ve been watching GG for a while now (we’re on season 5) and she loves it (I watched it when it originally ran and loved it then too). It’s become our quiet girl time at the end of hectic toddler-centric chaotic days. Being in our new home, with it’s new set up, is giving us permission to start new routines and rituals; new ways of caring for ourselves and each other; new ways of being together.

As we settle more into our new home, we are settling back into some of our old routines and rituals, too. This weekend the office got more unpacked and out came the magazines and scissors and glue sticks and pushpins, along with the bulletin boards and blank journals. My girl and I each started new intuitive collage boards and she has been filling up her new “inspiration journal” with magazine cuttings and her own sketches.

I have been trying, and floundering a bit, to find my own ritual again with writing. Writing is my main form of self-care. Getting my thoughts out on the screen or page is so fulfilling for me and grounds me in a way that nothing else can. It allows me to empty my head so I can be more present and in my body. Stream of conscious writing allows me the space for insights and understanding, of myself, my children, and others.  I have tried many times, even before the move, to write at the end of the day, to empty my head so I can settle into sleep. And the truth is I am so depleted by the time I can get a few moments of quiet to gather my thoughts, that what I really need to simply zone out a bit: watch some TV, read a book, catch up on some blogs, text with friends. Each of those is also a form of self-care and each one helps to center and ground me in its own way, helping me to replenish and relax. They are my real end-of-day grounding, giving me that small break between the chaos of the day that has been and the chaos of bedtime that is to come. It gives me that needed time to replenish so that bedtime doesn’t end in meltdowns (mine) or screaming (mine) or tears (mine).  (It doesn’t guarantee they won’t meltdown or scream or cry, but it gives me the reserves to manage their emotions calmly and lovingly).

This morning the stars aligned and I am up before the toddler and sitting at the laptop and writing. As I was making my coffee my daughter awoke, came downstairs and got her own breakfast. We said our good-mornings and I came up to the office and started to write and then a few moments later she came in and grabbed her inspiration journal to draw in while she watches a YouTube video (or five). I am feeling this new ritual, of up before my toddler, being born and am thinking it may be time to start going to bed earlier so I can have these quiet mornings I so desperately need to start my days.

I am not a morning person, or really a night person either. I have always needed to come into the world slowly as I wake. At various points in my life I have been able to honor this, and at other times not so much. The last few days have been filled with intensity and meltdowns (mine and theirs) and exhaustion (mine and theirs) as we figure out how to function without naps during the day (over-tired toddler, over-wrought mama, over-stimulated almost-preteen). Yesterday, as I took little breaks to breathe, and then once my husband was home, a slightly longer break to replenish, I remembered again my desperate need to start the mornings on my terms, and not theirs.

I don’t have much control in the chaos of toddler and preteen life. The oddest things (to me) set either of them off into tears and frustration. I, of course, do my best to create an interesting life for the two of them, always playing with the ebb and flow of activity and downtime to meet their ever-changing needs. I can find myself so focused on creating a good life for them that I forget to create the pockets I need for my own well-being. As mamas this happens often, we get so hyper focused on creating the “perfect” (ha!) life for our children that we deplete ourselves and find ourselves unsatisfied and frustrated. This is what it is to be a parent in this modern age.

Yet, we need to remember to care for ourselves. The ebb and flow of focus on them and then on us is healthy and natural. Our children need to see us caring for ourselves so they can learn to do the same. They need to see us pursuing our passions so they will have the courage to do the same. They need to watch us set boundaries and give space for us to replenish ourselves, so as they grow older they know it is okay for them to do the same.

This is how we model self-care: not by taking care of them every moment of the day, but by slowing down and sometimes even stopping and taking care of ourselves, and allowing them to witness this ritual. It is in modeling for them this natural ebb and flow (sometimes I am focused on you and sometimes I need to be focused on me) that they learn it for themselves.

How do you take little breaks in your day to replenish and nourish yourself? How do you model self-care and self-love for your children? How do you create a fulfilling life for yourself?

Want to read more? Subscribe to my weekly love-letter right here. xoxo

 

Posted on

Damn Oxygen Masks

When people talk about the importance of self care, the analogy of the airplane oxygen mask is almost always mentioned. You know the one, you have to put your mask on first before you will be able to help anyone else. There are variations on this theme, the idea that you can’t fill anyone else’s cup if yours is empty; flowers can’t grow in barren soil; etc.

The not-so-subtle message behind these analogies is the only reason to fill your own cup, or put on your own damn oxygen mask, is so you will be able to take care of others. This message both frustrates and infuriates me.

It is true that we absolutely can’t take care of others well if we don’t take care of ourselves. Parents of young children or adult children with aging parents or caregivers of any kind understand this. You can only run on fumes for so long before you crash. This is truth.

AND, I would love us to change the message of self-care from one of doing it so we can serve others, to one of doing it because we are worthy and deserve to be cared for, ourselves.

It is a not-so-subtle difference in the message. If you are only taking care of yourself in order to care for others, you don’t need to feel worthy. In fact you be quite the martyr, only giving in to care for yourself when others insist, with the intention of only doing it so you can keep on running yourself ragged caring for others. You can stay stuck in this story of not-deserving, not-good-enough, unworthiness your whole life in fact, while still dabbling in bits of self-care, only as necessary. You could even claim that you do care for yourself! Win-win, right?

I don’t think so. And I bet you don’t really either.

What if you change your story about your worth, your value, your deservedness? What if you shifted your thinking to knowing you are good-enough, at all you do. Not perfect, good-enough. What if you let good-enough, be enough?

What would happen?

How could the rest of your life shift if you took that bubble bath, or walk, or enjoyed that quiet cup of tea or glass of wine, because you wanted to? Because you deserved to have that time to you?

How would others start to treat you if you treated yourself with respect? If you acted as if you deserve nourishing and respect and to be honored?

What if you realized you were a sacred being?

What would happen?

 

Want to read more? Subscribe to my weekly love letter right here. I sent it out every Saturday night and I’m be thrilled if you wanted to read it. xoxo

 

 

 

 

 

Posted on

Nourishment, Reconnection & Sexual Beings

In the Unbecoming Quest Circle, we spent the spring moving down into the Underworld, like Inanna, shedding layer after layer, going deeper and deeper, finding our own Shadow Self. We spend the time unearthing and questioning, revealing and learning more and more about the women we are, the women were, the women we came from.

We then took a three month break, leaving us in Underworld to sit with our Shadow Self. Some of the women joined me for the two Embodied intensives and we dug and unearthed some more, however for most those three months we were apart. I wanted the women of the circle to have that time to rest, to allow things to simmer and stew and settle. It was a time to be nourishing and replenishing, enjoying the summer and preparing for the work of fall.

A few weeks ago we gathered back together and we have begun our ascension from the Underworld. For this second module our focus is on healing the wounds we uncovered in the spring. We will be spending these three months focusing on deeply connecting to our bodies and all their wisdom. We are learning to let go of old stories of unworthiness or being undeserving. We are digging into learning to nourish and honor our bodies and spirits. We are healing old wounds.

And we are talking about sex, sexuality and what it is to be a sexual being.

Sex is a tough conversation for many of us for many reasons. So many have wounds around the topic of sex. Some experienced sexual abuse as a child. Some were raped. Some were taught that their bodies are “dirty.” Some learned at an early age that a woman’s body can fail her. Some learned to abuse their own bodies by either depriving themselves of sex and being sexual or by being over-sexual but not really feeling it.

It is a can of worms, this topic of being a sexual being. This week we are linking together the ideas of nourishment and sexuality and how they could come together, what stories are stopping us, what new stories are we ready to create.

Sometimes we can dive right into the deep end: we can go straight for the old story and take away it’s power by creating a new and healthier story. More often however, we need to move more slowly.

Sometimes it is the baby-steps that are the most powerful. Giving yourself fifteen minutes to enjoy a quiet cup of tea and daydream. Or twenty minutes (or more) for a relaxing bath. Maybe it’s finally getting out the door to that yoga class or for that walk. Perhaps it is sitting down and meditating. It could be a flash of realizing you are deserving of a beautiful meal and cooking it for yourself. This list of baby steps to becoming fully embodied, to connecting deeply to your Feminine self, to healing the Feminine and Masculine wounds you carry in your body, it could go on and on.

At the core of these baby steps is the slow integration of this truth: we are all beautiful, worthy and deserving beings.With each walk you take in nature or each bath or each quiet cup of tea, you are emphasizing this truth, you are acknowledging your own worthiness. You are changing your story.

As we connect more and more to our bodies, to our deserving, to our creativity, we are also connecting more and more to our Feminine self, and as part of that, our sexuality. As we heal the wounds of our past, our mothers’ pasts, our grandmothers’ pasts, our great-great-great-great grandmothers on our father’s side past… we are also healing all our collective wounds about sexuality.

It is a circular and spiraling and intertwining path. There is ebb and flow to this work. Always. And sometimes we truly can dive in, head on, and heal a wound. In my experience though, those times are rare. Most often, we need the baby steps.

Did you enjoy this? If so, I invite you to subscribe to my weekly love letter. It comes out every Saturday evening and you can sign up to get yours right here.

 

Posted on

Frontlines and Trenches

A social worker once said to me that parents are in the trenches until their youngest child has turned seven. We are mostly at the beck and call and whim of these young people, who need us to help them develop emotionally, psychologically, physically. It’s thankless work (mostly) and we get precious little time to ourselves for our own endeavors and loves. We have to fight tooth and nail it seems to get five minutes of downtime to allow our brains to have some quiet and we get little support from the outside world. Yes, being a parent is endlessly rewarding, but let’s be honest, it’s hard fucking work.

I saw the truth in these words, how we parents are in the trenches for the first seven years of our children’s lives, with my own daughter. In the last year as she approached and became seven her independence expanded exponentially, to the point of me finding myself on several occasions staring blankly at a wall having no idea what to do with myself: she was contently playing on her own and didn’t need or want me to join her. In the last year I’ve had the space to reconnect to my love of writing and to develop my business in a way I didn’t know would ever be possible being a homeschooling mom. I have to say it’s been bittersweet, watching her grow and not need me or want me as much as, or in the same ways, she once did.

I’ve had time to find me again, and dear gosh, it has been amazing.

And while those first seven years I would agree we as parents are definitely in the trenches, I have to say that for the first month of their lives we are on the effing war-torn front lines.

I hadn’t remembered how hard that first month with our daughter was. It was over seven years ago, and after that first month passed she became the propaganda baby we all remember and talk about: totally zen and calm, easy to soothe, a great sleeper, etc. What followed her first month of life erased the horror of those first four weeks. Four weeks where I was sure we should just give her up for adoption because we were the most unfit parents on the planet and where I questioned myself every moment and constantly had a critical voice telling me how I was screwing her up.

The last month with our son, his first four weeks of life, have brought back some of those traumatic memories. We have relived the sleep deprivation and I had several moments of deeply regretting having a second child. I’ve been in tears and felt like a total failure as a mother, not only to our little guy but also to our daughter who has been truly a young saint in the making as we adjust to life as a family of four. I have snapped and yelled and cried and screamed more than I care to admit and I have felt such deep guilt for all the change in our family. The critical voices came back, along with the intense anxiety and depression and I felt myself slipping into the downward spiral I lived through with our girl.

We seem to be at a turning point now. In part because our little guy’s brain is forming the pathways it needs; he’s becoming more interactive and awake during the day, allowing us more sleep at night. And we’re all figuring out his cues and cries and are able to get his needs met a little faster. He’s becoming the zen propaganda baby his sister was and let me tell you, this is a great relief for everyone in this house.

And while his growing and changing and developing is a part of it all, I believe a major part of the turning point is I recognized I needed help and with the support of my husband and some close friends, I got it.

You see I experienced postpartum depression with my daughter. For over two and a half years. At first I didn’t recognize the symptoms and signs, but eventually I did and then became too proud and stubborn to do anything about it. I also was suffering from hypothyroidism and my adrenal system had all but stopped working, which I found out when I finally did go to my doctor. But it was over two and half years of suffering: mine and my family’s, before I started seeking help and then it was at least another six months before we were able to really start seeing any changes as my body and mind started to heal.

At the beginning of our little guy’s third week of life I knew that I was back on that path of suffering. I had promised my husband before we even got married that I would seek help immediately if the postpartum depression symptoms came back and so after a couple days of feeling the depression and anxiety seep into my core, I told him I needed to get help. He supported me in calling my midwife and last week I started medication and supplementation to alleviate the symptoms.

I’m not 100% yet but I’m sure a hell of a lot better than I was a week ago.

I’m sharing this for a few reasons. The greatest being the shame that surrounds postpartum depression. I had so much shame with my daughter and a desperate need to prove that I could do it all and handle everything. I’ve stated before how this lead to me having a near psychotic break. My husband almost lost his wife, my daughter almost lost her mother. It was the darkest time of my life and while living it I would never admit to anyone what was happening inside my head and body, now I feel the need to share the story.

One of the greatest lessons my daughter has taught me is the importance of self-care, self-love; the necessity to take the time for my own replenishment and renewal. Or more to the point, that my survival depends on the ability to care for myself, to seek help when I need it and to release any misplaced shame around our need for help. That I don’t need to be “super mom” or to “do it all” and that I need to care for myself and allow others to help me with that care. That taking five, ten, twenty minutes to myself is not selfish, it is necessary for me to live.

Babyboy  is giving me the opportunity to practice this lesson. It has been a hard month, not only because of sleep deprivation and learning the nuances of a new little person and stepping into caring for him regardless of what I think I need to be doing in the moment; but also because I am stepping into the practice of lessons learned and allowing the space for me to need, ask for, and receive help and remembering that even little bubbles of five to fifteen minutes for me can offer a world of renewal. Taking five minutes to make a phone call for a doctor appointment or to stare out the window daydreaming; or ten minutes to make a yummy refreshing summer drink;  or twenty minutes to make a replenishing and nourishing easy meal.

This in-my-face reminder of the need for self-care inspired me to remind everyone of the importance of a self-love practice:  the little things we can do to refresh, renew, and replenish, everyday. Self-care is recognizing the importance of giving time to ourselves and knowing that by taking this time we are able to become and be the people we want to be and allowing our own inner glow to burst through.