You Can't Get Water From an Empty Well

 

Where the journey begins

 On the last official weekend of summer, I decided to take time to do one of my favorite things and go kayaking  It was kind of ironic that on the day after we realized that due to August's sparse rainfall, our well was dry, and I found myself surrounded by thousands of gallons of water.  Not too long ago, I would have never dreamt of leaving a box of cereal and a bowl of fruit on the kitchen table with a note saying, "Went kayaking, be back by lunch!  Love, Mom."  I would have felt guilty for not being there when the kids woke up.  I most likely would have talked myself out of doing something solely for me.  I've come a long way in that respect.

      Early in my journey of motherhood, taking care of myself was something I wasn't very good at.  When I first became a mom, I worked sixty-hour weeks and was riddled with guilt for not being with my son.  Any spare moment I had I made sure that I spent it with him .  Years later, after having the twins and making the decision to be a stay-at-home mom, I felt that I somehow had to shift proving my self-worth from my paid job, to making sure that I was fully engrossed 100% of the time either in my children or in housework.  It had taken years of being burned out to silence that little voice that told me I was only worth how much I was doing.  I was a walking human-doing, and not a human-being.
     We're surrounded daily by images of supposedly perfect parenting.  Just log into Pinterest if you ever want to feel less-than.  Social media has allowed us to take the picture-perfect moments in our lives and piece together a flawless mosaic for others to see.  I'm not exactly sure when I started to shed this notion that I had to be the "perfect" mom, or when I began to feel like it was OK to start doing things for myself.  It has been a process for sure.  Maybe it began with the once-a-month Twins' Club meetings I went to.  I could rationalize the one night out of a month that I took to meet with other moms of multiples.  Somehow my mommy-guilt allowed me to enjoy those nights mostly guilt-free because I truly felt they were helping me to be a better mother.  There-in lies the absolute truth of it.  Taking a moment for myself, helps me to be a better person for others.  At that time I wasn't aware of it though.  I do remember a defining, "a-ha," moment where I really grasped that notion.  I was twenty-nine, I had just had child number five and we almost immediately moved into the house we now live in.  The year leading up to my youngest's birth was particularly difficult for many reasons and I had just spent the last decade completely absorbed in my children.  I was anxious to lose my baby-weight and saw an ad for a free yoga class in town.  I had started practicing yoga before I got pregnant with Charlotte but hadn't really given it much time.  After struggling through that first class, thinking of nothing other than trying not to fall on my face in front of everyone, I realized that it quite probably was the first time in ten years that I thought of nothing other than where my own two feet were.  No thoughts of what happened in the day preceding the class, no lists of what I had to do after, just a pinpointed focus on where I was at that moment.  It also challenged me to be aware of my physical self.  My breathing, my alignment, my posture, it was all...about...me.  When I came home that evening, I found that the bickering children didn't make my blood pressure rise so high.  The baby's cries seemed less urgent.  The housework even seemed less daunting.  I'm not saying that yoga is for everyone, or that it guarantees a personal epiphany, but it definitely has played a large part in my journey.  Since that class, eight years ago, I find myself enjoying cups of coffee on my porch, taking short trips alone, making time for even just a walk once in awhile.  The old mommy-guilt voice has been mostly quieted because I know that I am a better person for everyone when I have taken even just a short, unapologetic moment to recharge.  I also hope that I am teaching my children something valuable along the way.  I hope by having a better balance in my life, that they still feel loved and important, but not that they are the most important people in the world.  Now don't get me wrong, my children ARE the most important people in MY world, but in any healthy relationship, there needs to be space for each person to be content with themselves first, before they can be good for others.  I hope my kids can learn that balance through my example.

    As I paddle in the morning sun, listening to music and I am surrounded by the peace and serenity that being alone on the lake brings, I can focus on and appreciate the strength of my arms instead of beating myself up for the softness of my middle.  I slow down my paddling and pause to watch the water birds put on a show seemingly just for me and simultaneously feel insignificant in this enormous world and yet completely an intricate part of its miracles.  I push against the wind and feel the light spray of water on my face until I find my favorite spot near the cliffs that for some reason remind me of California and allow myself to float aimlessly with my thoughts while dangling my foot in the cool water.  As I row back towards shore and home, I know I'm bringing back more to my children of me to share than I left with.