Because of the dailiness of these posts, I can’t give them unlimited amounts of time, which is what some of them need. Yesterday’s post was a little scattered but this morning became more clear. In the interest of full disclosure, I just edited #39 (and marked it as edited) by deleting one sentence, which I will now address more fully.
I did not lose a sense of myself from putting my family above my own needs. As I’m sure my family will attest, I have always taken care of myself–with trips to France and spa visits and writing retreats. My own particular brand of weirdness stems from wanting to be private–which is what started this project. So private that I hid myself from myself. (I am really good.) I’m like the opposite of the whole private/public debate. I need to share more, not less to move the needle back to the middle.
Possibly the inability to take time for myself when the kids are here that I was talking about yesterday stems from the relatively new fact that they no longer live here. So they are either here or gone. Which feeds the no-middle-ground type of thinking.
I just need to remember what I know about myself–that I am happiest if I take a little time for me each day.
~
365 true things about me
why this daily practice
I’m struggling with the in between you described….the kids are either here and I’m back to my former life, or they are gone and I’m on hold until they return. It is hard for me to move forward with a plan while I live in this in between world. Your posts often connect with me because they describe the path from a life defined by work, then children, then this valley in between. Thank you!
Chris, I’m so glad you can connect to the posts. And I hear what you’re saying. But for me, it’s not that I’m on hold until the kids return; it’s more that for whatever reason I’m unable to hold onto my new life when they’re here. Thank you for reading and leaving a comment!
I really think the “taking time for me” thing is difficult for many women, if not most, right? We’re the caregivers in so many ways. I can tell you, today would’ve been great to find some “me” time ’cause I’m now having blood pressure issues from all the stress lately. It’s finally catching up. It’s so important to make that time, but it’s so rare it happens, certainly for me. I hope we all find more balance in our lives 🙂
Donna, first above all you need to take care of your blood pressure! And after that, yes, here’s to balance!
Yeah, I’m not sure what’s going on right now with all the symptoms. Could be a number of things.
Sending calm wishes.
Thank you, Cynthia 🙂
Cynthia… I do SO relate to this line:
“So private that I hid myself from myself.”
In reply… a TED Talk: Brene Brown…
The power of vulnerability
from saudi with love xxx
Helena, finally got a chance to watch this and thought it was great xo
Cynthia… I am delighted to hear that… 🙂
It was sent to me by a dear Saudi friend…
who is cheering me on… as are you xxx
xo
The other day I confessed to a friend how weird I can be when my feelings have been hurt. I’m so good, typically, at shielding myself, that I only very rarely feel wounded by anyone, despite being an extremely sensitive person. I just have great coping strategies for that sensitivity, so mostly I move through the world just fine, waving away things that would bother less sensitive folks. But occasionally someone does manage to get me right between the eyes. And when that happens–here’s the weird part–I find the experience so difficult that I can’t talk to myself about it. And by talk to myself, I mean that I can’t allow the words to form in my brain so that I might process it. You know that space, that very, very dark and constrained space, between the unformed thought and the word that names the thought? How most of the time you can’t even access that space b/c the transition from formless to formed is so quick and seamless? I very carefully monitor that space if I’m feeling wounded. I stretch it. I set up a time-delay. So if formless thought is headed toward a form that will admit that I am hurt–I drop a wall to stop it. It can take me weeks before I can very carefully begin to explore allowing the words to form. After a while I put together the sentences, gently talking to myself, describing what happened and why I reacted the way I did. That process can take many more weeks. And then, eventually, I find that I can speak pretty naturally inside my head about whatever happened, and that’s the sign that I can tell some version of the story to Pat or close friends, who can give me the feedback I need to finally properly fully process what happened and put it to rest. That’s what I thought about when I read that you are good at keeping yourself private from yourself. I can be very good at that, too, in the circumstances I just described, but also in other ways that stun me when I do trip over a truth I’ve been hiding from my poor, well-meaning brain. It’s a very strange feeling, isn’t it?
Your comment is fascinating, Claire, on so many levels. You know yourself so well. And you’re dead right. This is exactly what I meant when I said I was good at keeping myself private from myself. Except I’m not sensitive and I’ve been doing this day-in and day-out for years, not just when something hits me between the eyes. But for everything. You describe this so well: “You know that space, that very, very dark and constrained space, between the unformed thought and the word that names the thought?” Except that if by constrained, you mean limited, for me it’s not. This space has been getting wider and wider and was in the process of hollowing me out. This is the space I’m trying to access and shrink. And in it is everything, from the ridiculous to the, well maybe not the sublime, but the more important.