I can’t count the number of times that I have dispensed the following advice: Stop and take a deep breath; put “big” things in their proper place; take a moment to unwind. But then… Who says I practice what I preach, though I always try? And why is this particular advice so damn difficult?
Over the past few days, I have followed my own counsel. Well, more or less, and not without some struggle, I admit. But I did disconnect for several days after completing a project, then another project, and both under considerable pressure. And in so doing, I allowed myself to do whatever I wanted to do. Within reason, of course.
I watched gobs and gobs of classic Downton Abbey. (Oh, the Edwardian dress!) I cooked myself incredibly healthy meals.(Oh, the penance for self-indulgence over the course of a long winter…) And when the sun finally emerged and the temperatures rose just enough so I wouldn’t feel too put upon by the cold lingering well into spring, I walked. My stamina is not what it once was, but I did the best that I could and allowed myself just to feel it, to appreciate my legs doing their job, to revel in the deep and piercing blue of the sky interrupted only by the most lovely wisps of white clouds. Mmmm. So nice. All good. All excellent, in fact. These are reminders of the importance of taking that breath.
Despite those good intentions (do nothing that feels like work), I couldn’t entirely help myself when it came to stacks of paperwork waiting to be looked at, labeled, tossed or filed. Hours went into that task. I finally got around to a heap of laundry that was soon to be as tall as I am. That, too, took some doing.
What else?
Not quite spring cleaning, but I paid bills, washed dishes, scrubbed the stove.
Relaxing? Not exactly my thing. I know that I am the typical Type A personality, and that I have a restless mind, which I consider an advantage in many respects all the while it renders relaxing a less than self-evident objective. My reality: Even in telling myself (repeatedly) to chill out, slow down, detach… I desperately needed to feel that I was accomplishing something besides accomplishing my “nothing.”
I don’t know why it is that I struggle with allowing myself to bask in a small amount of reward or even self-congratulations when I complete a difficult task. I suspect it is tied to the “never enough” I felt when trying to please my very demanding mother, but really? Even now? Have I not shed that shadow yet? Or shed enough of it?
It is as if praise is only half-heard and half-felt, and less so if I attempt to give it to myself. As for relaxing, I rarely let down (unless I’m in France), or I feel as if I will not be treading in place but falling behind; I will be swept away, pulled adrift by currents stronger than myself.
Certainly, the years of single parenting and working as an independent have reinforced that sense. The well-being of my sons, as well as financial survival, have depended on it. But none of us can be engaged all the time without paying a price — a price in health, happiness, quality, relationships.
So, more and more often these days, I give myself a good lecture in the mirror to stop and appreciate what I have, to say “good job” when I have done what I need to do and have done it well, and to tell myself that it is OK to take a moment’s rest. (Thank you, PBS, for some very enjoyable binge watching!)
I know I am not alone in struggling with this, and I chalk it up to my upbringing. The work ethic of a different day, to a degree. Untethering myself from the work ethic with which I was raised is a challenge (to say the least), even as I recognize that it is just as important to be realistic and unreasonable in what I expect of myself… as I would be in others.
Do we ever leave our childhoods behind, really?
I wonder.
Downton Abbey image; detail from screen capture while viewing.
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D.A.,
“Do we ever leave our childhoods behind, really?”
From my perspective the answer, “No, we do not ever leave our childhoods behind.” Childhood is only a part of who we are; our soul.
Some try to run away from, some try to hide from through masks, and some try to bury the past.
One author I read years ago wrote, “I realize that we live in a moment when people like to wallow in their confessed past, in best-selling books, on afternoon talk shows, anywhere they can find an audience. But the truth is that if America is about anything, it’s about being able to forget the past if you want to.”
I wonder if it still holds true for the author.
For me, as I age there are many things I have forgotten or remember perhaps a little differently as time reveals more information and wisdom processes more truths.
If I had to settle on one line of thought, it would be this; I choose a better alternative for myself; forgiveness.
NO, we NEVER DO! AT least NOT yet as 58 LOOMS………
Always comparing today to yesteryear. A bit DEPRESSING actually.
For as FAR as we have come I do not think we are happier people or smarter.
To think they do not teach how to parallel park anymore!!!!!!
To think an IPAD is used in second grade now.
To think GAMES are everywhere to keep little ones busy so MOMMY does not have to DEAL with them!!!!
Glad I will have checked out when I do as this next GENERATION I do not think will have the SOCIAL SKILLS to partake in LIFE!
XX
Good for you to walk, and binge-watch, take care of you. But also good to get some of those chores done that undone make us feel guilty, and when done and all packed away, make us sigh, replete with satisfaction. I love to get a pile of laundry done, all dried, and folded, then have a bath… then a glass of wine and …. then … Downton Abbey.
I think my grandmother never sat still an instant. Constantly cooking, cleaning, gardening, sewing, crocheting….I suspect she was a bit hyperactive. Anyway, I don’t buy the argument that there are only certain ways to relax. Some people find cleaning or gardening to be zen; others find them to be worse than getting a tooth pulled. Some people love to read; others detest it. To each her own. (I’m in the reading camp–gardening and cleaning are torture!)