Hi, my name is Kali, and I am a Mom Who Needs To Breathe.
There. I said it. Now, why is that so hard to admit? Why is it that I feel the need to put on a happy face and pretend that I am so constantly energized by my two bouncing children that I want to take on the whole world; that being a stay-at-home mom is the greatest single feat I have ever and will ever accomplish? Why can't I just say that I love what I do, but I'm tired - that there are highs and lows to every day, just like there are in the working world?
** Side Note: If you aren't a stay-at-home mom, feel free to insert your own job. I simply say SAHM because it's my job. But I'm sure everyone has felt these things, be you a teacher, a doctor, a marine biologist, or a wedding planner (those are just some of the other things I wanted to be growing up).
So why can't I admit that I am bone-tired? It's pretty simple, really. I would rather say, "Hi, I'm SuperMom!" Because being honest, might make it seem like I made a mistake in my life's path. Like I actually am throwing away my life, because life should always be fulfilling and awesome like it seems on Pinterest and Facebook. To say that I'm tired and that some days are really hard would make it seem like I don't have it all together, like I'm... not good at what I do...
Today Zach came home for lunch and I promptly locked myself in the bathroom. I pulled out the bath pillow and laid down in the empty tub. Silence at last. For about 12 seconds. "Mama! Are you in there? Mama?" Knock knock. Fingers under the door. Knock knock. Sigh. Yes, I'm tired.
What kind of world am I living in where I would rather have my husband think that I'm stuck in the bathroom with raging diarrhea rather than in desperate need of 15 minutes of silence, of not being needed?
The hardest parts of the day don't come at the end of the day, nor at the beginning. They come in the middle, when the night's sleep has worn off, when I am picking up the 500th toy, and listening to the 300th squabble. They come when the patience has gone and I don't have 15 minutes of quiet to regain it. And even if I did find a quiet minute, all I would hear is an unending To-Do list set to a horrendous mash-up of the Frozen soundtrack and the Jake and the Neverland Pirates theme song.
But if I don't do something, there will soon be three babies in the house, and there's no excuse for that.
Several years ago I learned different techniques for practicing Mindfulness. At the time I was learning them for pain management, but it turns out that Mindfulness is an amazing skill for everyone. The problem with it is that I am not very good at practicing it. The practice of simply being present and allowing oxygen to reset your body is completely rejuvenating. It's amazing how we allow our brains to be in 20 different places at once, which steals productivity and precious moments, and while it's working so hard to tear us in two, we don't even feed it. We completely forget to breathe. Oxygen is cleansing. The act of taking a deep breath is centering. This is basic biology, yet I know that when I consciously do it, by body and soul act as though they have been oxygen-deprived for a month.
So here's my challenge for myself. When those feelings of exhaustion and frustration and irritation begin to crowd out the joy that I have when playing with my children, I need to breathe. When all I want is for my babies to finally fall asleep, I need to breathe. My favorite technique involves saying the thing that you need and then releasing the thing that is stealing its space as you breathe out. As you breathe in deeply through your nose, silently reclaim your needs. Breathe in Jesus. Breathe out Irritation. Breathe in Joy. Breathe out Frustration. Breathe in Patience. Breathe out Anxiety. Breathe in Peace. Breathe out Noise.
I don't often get 15 minutes where no one needs me. But I can absolutely reclaim a life-giving and soul-feeding breath.
p.s. Aside from practicing mindfulness, another fantastic resource that I've discovered this month is the book Desperate: Hope for the Mom Who Needs To Breathe by Sarah Mae and Sally Clarkson. If you are in a place of feeling alone and desperate, read this with a box of tissues and bask in the knowledge that you are not alone and there truly is hope.
** Side Note: If you aren't a stay-at-home mom, feel free to insert your own job. I simply say SAHM because it's my job. But I'm sure everyone has felt these things, be you a teacher, a doctor, a marine biologist, or a wedding planner (those are just some of the other things I wanted to be growing up).
So why can't I admit that I am bone-tired? It's pretty simple, really. I would rather say, "Hi, I'm SuperMom!" Because being honest, might make it seem like I made a mistake in my life's path. Like I actually am throwing away my life, because life should always be fulfilling and awesome like it seems on Pinterest and Facebook. To say that I'm tired and that some days are really hard would make it seem like I don't have it all together, like I'm... not good at what I do...
Today Zach came home for lunch and I promptly locked myself in the bathroom. I pulled out the bath pillow and laid down in the empty tub. Silence at last. For about 12 seconds. "Mama! Are you in there? Mama?" Knock knock. Fingers under the door. Knock knock. Sigh. Yes, I'm tired.
What kind of world am I living in where I would rather have my husband think that I'm stuck in the bathroom with raging diarrhea rather than in desperate need of 15 minutes of silence, of not being needed?
The hardest parts of the day don't come at the end of the day, nor at the beginning. They come in the middle, when the night's sleep has worn off, when I am picking up the 500th toy, and listening to the 300th squabble. They come when the patience has gone and I don't have 15 minutes of quiet to regain it. And even if I did find a quiet minute, all I would hear is an unending To-Do list set to a horrendous mash-up of the Frozen soundtrack and the Jake and the Neverland Pirates theme song.
But if I don't do something, there will soon be three babies in the house, and there's no excuse for that.
Several years ago I learned different techniques for practicing Mindfulness. At the time I was learning them for pain management, but it turns out that Mindfulness is an amazing skill for everyone. The problem with it is that I am not very good at practicing it. The practice of simply being present and allowing oxygen to reset your body is completely rejuvenating. It's amazing how we allow our brains to be in 20 different places at once, which steals productivity and precious moments, and while it's working so hard to tear us in two, we don't even feed it. We completely forget to breathe. Oxygen is cleansing. The act of taking a deep breath is centering. This is basic biology, yet I know that when I consciously do it, by body and soul act as though they have been oxygen-deprived for a month.
So here's my challenge for myself. When those feelings of exhaustion and frustration and irritation begin to crowd out the joy that I have when playing with my children, I need to breathe. When all I want is for my babies to finally fall asleep, I need to breathe. My favorite technique involves saying the thing that you need and then releasing the thing that is stealing its space as you breathe out. As you breathe in deeply through your nose, silently reclaim your needs. Breathe in Jesus. Breathe out Irritation. Breathe in Joy. Breathe out Frustration. Breathe in Patience. Breathe out Anxiety. Breathe in Peace. Breathe out Noise.
I don't often get 15 minutes where no one needs me. But I can absolutely reclaim a life-giving and soul-feeding breath.
p.s. Aside from practicing mindfulness, another fantastic resource that I've discovered this month is the book Desperate: Hope for the Mom Who Needs To Breathe by Sarah Mae and Sally Clarkson. If you are in a place of feeling alone and desperate, read this with a box of tissues and bask in the knowledge that you are not alone and there truly is hope.
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