We have to take care of ourselves. It has been such a long process for me to learn this. What is it for us, especially as women, that struggles so much with this concept? Why do we feel guilty? Why do we feel that we have to prove our toughness? (Ok, so that one is a loaded question with complex layers of answers.)
Equally hard has been learning that the way you need to take care of you may not be the same as the way I need to take care of me. There’s a significant amount of listening to ourselves—our own unique hearts and souls, the unique message the Spirit is breathing into each one of us.
In many ways, I’ve gotten better about this, especially when, as a mother, I realized I would never be able to properly care for my kids if I wasn’t caring for me too. But sometimes, I still forget. I push too hard. I carry too much. And then I get knocked down hard.
I’m dealing with my second round of sickness within a month’s time, which is pretty unusual for me. I forgot to take care of me during the crazy, and now I’m paying for it with a struggling body and discouraged soul. But I’m thankful for the deluge of rain being dumped on our area this weekend. It is forcing me to slow down, to listen to what I need, to do something about it.
How can you take care of yourself this weekend?
September 1 is here, and I am staring into the fog of this month, wondering what exactly it will bring.
In 30 days, my life is going to look a lot different than it does right now. A huge part of that involves moving to a new home, although where exactly that home is going to be still remains a mystery.
I’ve learned something about myself over the last few months. I don’t deal with transition as well as I’d like to. It’s one thing when there’s some clarity about what awaits on the other side of the change. But when everything looks like one enormous question mark? Well, this doesn’t bring out my finest moments.
But I want to change this. I don’t know that I can do anything to change the swirling emotions that start a frenzied dance inside of me. But maybe I could respond to them differently, in a way that births peace even in the uncertainty.
Recognizing this and accepting it about myself seems like an enormous victory all by itself. And now I am looking for the next steps to take to embrace the shift, rather than be overwhelmed by it.
Today it looks like writing for me—to give my soul space to breathe and to remind myself of what could be possible. It looks like an enormous, colorful salad for lunch—to care for this body that has a lot to do in the days and weeks ahead. It looks like lingering a little longer over a book that speaks to the process of waiting. It looks like hunting down joy and telling my husband I need to laugh with him before this day is over.
And maybe something in me can change for the better, even as life changes all around me.
What about you? How do you deal with transitions and uncertainty?