I’ve had a rough couple of weeks. I just haven’t been in the mood to take care of myself (and yes, I cringe as I write that) and have followed the start and end of each day with “I’ll start tomorrow”. Three weeks later, here I am.
I’ve still been attending my meetings and have had the best intentions of getting my head in the game. I think one of the biggest issues is that I am still struggling with making time for myself. Sure, I go to my meetings each Saturday for about an hour and every once in a while get a pedicure, but aside from that it’s all about everyone else. I feel really selfish writing that…as though taking care of everyone is a bad thing. It’s actually one of my greatest joys and I think that this is why I have so much trouble accepting the fact that it is okay to separate myself from wife and mother in order to do things that feed my soul. I also think that this idea of spending time alone/doing the things I love is new to me. Something that I’ve only gotten an itch for within the past year or so and something I’ve only actually acknowledged within the past few months.
Although it may seem cliche, I think I’d probably be a far more amazing person if I actually figured out this whole self-care self-love thing. As I searched to create something to use as the key photo of this post, I stopped and really thought about the quote: “Fall in love with taking care of yourself. Mind, body, spirit.” I think part of my struggle has been that I am trying to take care of my physical body and not finding success because my mind and spirit are not following suite. I am not sure if Lisa in her twenties never needed alone time, or if it was so abundant that it never took making a conscious effort to obtain it. I do know, however, that something has to change if I want to change.
Apropos to this, my husband and I had a conversation about time just this week. You see, my husband has never struggled to feed his soul by doing the things that he loves. From mountain biking, triathlon training, or going for a run to washing his car, going for a swim in our pool or surfing, he is easily able to fill his time with activities that make his heart full. When we had our son, he struggled with the transition for a bit because he wasn’t able to just “be”/”do” anymore; he now had the responsibility of being “Dad”, too. While he always states that I never give him even the slightest “ugh” (for lack of a better word) when he wants to complete any of his hobbies, he feels guilty because I rarely ask to do anything just for myself. I had an epiphany that day. The problem isn’t that there aren’t times that there are things that I’d like to do, but rather that the things that I would do seem selfish to ask someone for help in doing. For example, I have been trying to read this book for about three weeks. I haven’t made it past chapter one. I’d love to say, “Hey, can you watch the baby for an hour so I can read?” but to me that seems like a silly reason to make him stop whatever it is that he is doing. He made a good point, stating: “Maybe I wouldn’t feel so bad asking you to do things if you’d ask me. Babe, I’d totally understand if you asked to go read your book in silence, blow dry your hair for an hour, or just go upstairs and sit on the floor. It wouldn’t matter…I just wish you would.”
While I haven’t taken him up on that offer just yet, I do plan on making a conscious effort to do so. Sadly, there are times when I don’t even realize that there is something I’d like to do. I am so used to putting everyone first that I’ve lost the things that make me thrive. How deeply saddening is that?
In working on losing the weight, I need to also focus on mind and spirit. As I know all too well, if all three aren’t alined, there is no balance.