6/17/2020 0 Comments Rechargelauren caseLast Saturday morning, at precisely 5:22 am, I sat in my kitchen ordering groceries. It was a peaceful moment, the windows were open, the birds were singing and the sunlight was just starting to peek in my windows. At precisely 5:34 am, I heard the bells from the cat’s collars jingle, followed by very fast footsteps that sounded an awful lot like the footsteps of a three-year-old boy chasing a cat.
Well, that was short-lived! I had a few minutes before my middle son, Liam, would either come searching for me or do something that would require me to go searching for him. But still, it had already been a much better morning than most. The typical morning usually includes Liam waking up between 2 and 4 o’clock, checking to make sure the sky is not falling and then wandering in and snuggling as close to me as possible. Then sometime around 5:30 am, it is all systems go. My children operate at one level, and most of the time my mornings are unpleasant and a bit rocky. But today, I decided to get ahead of the chaos. I thought about going for a morning walk, but the nagging need to order groceries won that internal battle. While the computer was booting and I was heating some tea, I glanced at my journal on the counter. I made a mental note to take a few minutes and write as soon as I was done ordering groceries. Liam, however, had other plans. As soon as I clicked submit order, I heard those jingles, and a few short minutes later, I heard a sweet and tired voice say, “good morning mommy, I’m awake.” I looked at my three-year-old son, and although I am flooded with love and joy to see him, I am also left feeling bitter about the short time I had to myself. Despite everything, I am relieved he seems to have woken up on the right side of the bed, and I am thankful that I got to complete one item off my list. After I put on some morning cartoons, I started to think about all the things I am not doing, and then before I knew it, I was in the middle of my very own personal pity party. Within minutes, my mind shifted from contentment to bitterness. I felt drained, but I heard my heart telling me to write and I knew I had at least one episode of Paw Patrol before I would get breakfast started. I opened my journal and began to write the following; I need to recharge, so before I can write anything remotely productive, inspiring or relevant to anything, I need to grant myself permission to take a break from my daily list and focus on recharging my battery. Great, but how? What are things I enjoy to do that also don’t feel like work? Writing calligraphy, singing, running, cooking, reading. That’s it. I give myself permission to do any or all of those things today when time allows, but also to take 15 minutes to myself to do some deep meditation and I will not feel guilty about not writing any assignments, I will not feel guilty for not folding laundry or scrubbing bathrooms, today, I recharge. And, I did. Throughout the day I made time to go for a run, spent a few minutes doodling while my kids painted rocks, played some music we all sang along to, baked up a quick and simple treat and between naps and bath time, I read for a few short minutes. When I stop to really think about it - my day was just as busy and consuming as any other day, but the difference was that I gave myself permission to do things that bring me joy before doing things that look a bit more like household chores and responsibilities.. And then a light bulb flickered. The difference between feeling joy or feeling guilt is permission. It is just that simple, yet so incredibly challenging to do. Somewhere along the way, whether it is how I was raised, or societal influences, or maybe just the way I am wired, I began to feel guilty for feeling joy. I am not sure if this makes sense or resonates with you, but when I acknowledge something that makes me happy or if I feel joyous for a blessing that comes into my life, I feel guilt that I am feeling something or experiencing something that someone else is not. So, I felt so much joy last Saturday, that the following day I actually felt guilty. So what did I do? I took my feelings and I made them small, but in the process, I made myself small. Because if I am small, then those big feelings can’t fit inside of me. And then before I knew it, I was feeling shame and guilt, and I spent the day scrubbing floors, folding laundry, and being bitter and angry. That cycle is a disaster. Thankfully, I have spent nearly a year deconstructing my brain with a therapy called EMDR and I have grown skilled at stopping those disasters from stealing hours, days, and (at one point) weeks from my life. After I steamed the floors and screamed at everyone in my family, I sat with my feelings, retraced my thoughts, and read the words in my journal that started this cascade of events. I need to recharge, so before I can write anything remotely productive, inspiring or relevant to anything, I need to grant myself permission to take a break from my daily list and focus on recharging my battery. Great, but how? What are things I enjoy to do that also don’t feel like work? Writing calligraphy, singing, running, cooking, reading. That’s it. I give myself permission to do any or all of those things today when time allows, but also to take 15 minutes to myself to do some deep meditation and I will not feel guilty about not writing any assignments, I will not feel guilty for not folding laundry or scrubbing bathrooms, today, I recharge. Ah, there it is. I need to recharge. I need permission. Once I re-read my words, I gave myself permission to shed the guilt and shame and when I came back downstairs, I wasn’t angry at the laundry or the dishes, and I didn’t spend the day scrubbing bathrooms as my punishment for experiencing joy. I gave myself permission to be balanced. I told myself, “I don’t need to use up my entire battery before I take a break! I am worthy enough to pause, recharge, and then keep going.” If you are like me, I am telling you, GIVE YOURSELF PERMISSION to pause and recharge - don’t wait until you’ve got nothing left, pause, be still, and recharge as often and as joyfully as you need.
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