Mothering Myself

This morning I woke up in my hotel room, feeling rested and calm. I stretched one foot out to the right, one arm out to the left, sliding them along the crisp white hotel sheets that I would never have to heave out of the washing machine.  The smile spread from the corners of my mouth all the way to my ears while my eyes stayed shut. It was beautiful. I’d gone to bed at 9pm and my watch informed me that eleven hours had passed between. Eleven. Deep sleeping hours!

For the good of our souls, sometimes just need a break from all the relational roles we carry.(2)

I woke, packed up my things and prepared for the day. I’m down in the hotel bar now having a coffee before I meet the beautiful Sarah, in person, at last. She’s an all-time favourite blogger of mine. The coffee was made for me by a barista who spoke about the complexity of the bean with an earnestness. I smiled at him, but thought about how I will not have to stack that cup in the dishwasher, or refill a kettle, or check the expiry date on that milk.  Just drink it.

I am such a fan of Sarah, as a writer and a person. Meeting her is very important to me.  I can’t wait to wrap her up in a big hug of thanks. To enjoy food and conversation with her and Annette from I Give You the Verbs! Dear Kate had to go and do some very exciting new work stuff, but you can check out her blog here (next time, Kate!) After our bloggy brunch, Miss Annette and I are lighting off for the Yarra Valley for a girls weekend. We’ll take the meandering way, and she promises that I can stop and take pictures to my heart’s content along the way.

Sarah, Annette and Rach
Sarah, Annette and Rach

This trip to Melbourne is something I’ve been longing to do for years. A chance to revisit my past, reconnect with people I haven’t seen for years and finally meet some I’ve been talking to online for a long time. But even more than the gorgeousness of all that, this trip, for me, is all about respite. I just needed to take some time out from all of the ‘adulting’ and be me, on my own, for a bit. The Rach who isn’t looking after anyone but herself, just for a few days.  I need to mother myself.

I need to stretch out, on a big big bed, all alone. To stand next to my soul sisters and spread my arms wide to the sky. To sleep and wake when I feel like it. To please myself doing anything I feel like doing; compromise free. I’ve explored, I’ve shopped, I’ve chatted and I’ve been blissfully quiet. I’ve drunk wine, I’ve taken a trip down memory lane at my old boarding school, I’ve eaten anything and everything I feel like eating without a single bite being cooked by me.

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It’s been gloriously selfish and deeply important for me to do all that.

When you become a mum, you don’t know that you are becoming something other than an ‘individual’. It’s something you have to learn. And once you have learned that by heart, there won’t be respite for a long, long time. My kids are now 8 and 11. The teenagers are now 17 and 18. The family has grown to a point that I’ve been able to set them up to manage their lives without me for a few days. The hubster is doing a stellar job with them. Their schedules are all being met.

I could probably have done this earlier, but I wasn’t internally strong enough to push for it. Sometimes, even with great families, it does take pushing for it. You have to fight for yourself the way you’d fight for your brood.

Respite is something we need to fight for as women, as givers, as mothers and wives. For the good of our souls, sometimes women just need a break from all the relational roles we carry. Freedom to just be ourselves, to turn the nurturing inward. To have a rest from all of that responsibility.  That’s what I’m doing.

I highly recommend it.

It might not be a trip to Melbourne. Maybe, if you have one, it’s a visit to your Mum’s place. Or camping in the spring, all alone. Or a solo movie. It might be a journey to see your cousin, or a drive down winding country roads. Find your respite, sisters of mine. I promise it will feed your soul and bring you joy.

It might be easier than you imagine to make it happen.

Go on.  Tell yourself to have and break and then, for goodness’ sake: go do what you’ve been told!

The Road… is Never Long

There is this thing that happens when you get to hang out with a childhood friend.  The years melt away and you’re back at your pre-baby, pre-wife self. Just yourself. Who you were before your adult roles became the bigger part of your identity.  Before responsibility and change and heartbreak and  all the stuff.  That noisy stuff that makes the mirror blurry.

I spent the weekend with my friend, who also happens to be my cousin. She’s known me for as long as I have been alive and seen me through all kinds of stuff. There’s comfort in that. We know each other’s history from the time before.  We know the dreams we had and the plans we made.  We know the paths we travelled and the ones we didn’t. And here, on the other side of forty we still know who each other is.

Really is.

And that is a beautiful, comforting thing. We both lost our mums in the last decade. Our mums were sisters.  We talked long into each night about grief, being women, the legacy of the women in our family. Being mums.  Being us while we travel through the terrain of our days.  It is so easy as women to lose sight of who your are, were, your core self. Life gets so demanding, and you choose to prioritise based on your responsibilities.  The kids, your husband, maybe your job, your friends.  How often are you the last on the list?  Have you ever been at the top of it?

I remember scoffing at women’s magazines when I was a working mum. Make time for you! Look after yourself so you can look after them!  Yeah right, I would think. There is no extra cash for that.  There is no extra time for that.  There is no one who can take the kids just so I can have “me time”.  Not everyone can afford to be that selfish.  That’s what I thought ‘me time’ was.  Selfish. Unrealistic.  A pipe dream.

And then we got sideswiped by my health problems. And prioritising became about survival. Saving the energy for an ever-more-pared-down-list of the most important, essential, crucial tasks. Spending my ‘spoons’ on the family and getting through the day. Gritting my teeth to manage what small amount of work I could, pushing through the necessary tasks.  No room there for frivolous “Me time”.  Me time was suddenly in surplus; but it wasn’t soul food time.  I was busy working on getting through the storm of body issues Dysautonomia sends my way.  It wasn’t restorative or helpful time. Just grit-your-teeth-and-bear-it time.

So when my cuzzie friend and I hatched the plan to meet halfway between NZ and Perth; in Adelaide, I honestly doubted I would make it. I didn’t think I could physically manage two flights, the days between, the struggle and strain without all my home comforts.  But seeing Erica again was powerful motivation. So I proceeded to hope for it anyway. And it was worth it. It was restorative. Girl time.  The way we can talk about a hundred things and pick up the threads at random times without ever losing our place.  I held her in a hug and felt connected to who we were again.

Maybe you think planning some ‘me time’ or ‘girl time’ with one of your dearest friends is a crazy thing to do.  Maybe you think you are too sick, or too busy, or too tired. I did.  And I booked it anyway.  It was a huge weekend for me. As I sat waiting to board the plane home my eyes filled with tears.  I took myself right to the edge of my coping capacity.  I was spent. I couldn’t walk. I felt so disconnected, dizzy and tired. So worn. But in my soul?  I was fed with the joy of finding my old self again. There’s soul food right there.  Enough emotional energy to make it through the next stretch.

Even if it seems like a crazy thing to do, book out that time for you.  You need it. You may not know just how much until you are there and you see it; you, again. Looking back at you in the mirror.  Always there, just waiting for some quality time with you.

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