It started ok, but as the day went on, things started going south.
I should have been happy:
The sun was shining.
The Sim Redmond Band was playing at the park by the lake.
It was our 13th wedding anniversary, and we had swimming weather, peaches, perfect tomatoes from the farm…
Picnic, sunshine, friends… The kids are healthy. Our relationship is healthy (knock on wood).
I should be happy.
I should be grateful.
But instead of fun and joy, if you follow me on twitter, you might have seen these:
yaelsaarAug 20, 8:36pm via Twitter for iPhoneGosh, running after a toddler at a picnic is no picnic. #nokidding #parenting #ppdchat
Where were we? Oh, right:
Anniversary, lake, sunshine, peaches.
I SHOULD be happy.
I SHOULD be grateful.
Well, guess what?
I AM grateful.
Being unhappy doesn’t mean I’m ungrateful.
(Must add this to my “This I Believe” list)
Sometimes motherhood and being human are such that being grateful is not enough to keep the pain at bay. Be it emotional or physical pain — when in pain — it is very hard, and sometimes impossible to be happy.
THe more I think about it, the more I realize that equating gratitude with happiness is not only silly and unrealistic, it’s also a little bit mean.
So um, yep, grateful and unhappy (for right now). That’s me.
And I truly believe that the less I force the “grateful=happy” equation, the faster I can get back to being happy and in touch with just how lucky and grateful I truly am.
Why pain, you might ask?
A combination of the darn time of the month (mother nature is such a bitch), bad ergonomics (I love my iphone and macbook, but I really should be sitting at a desk when I use them) and not enough sleep (what else is new?) is simply more than this aging body can handle. I’m going to be 40 in a month, and my body can no longer take the abuse.
My head hurts.
My feet hurt.
Everything in between hurts.
(Gosh, just saying this makes me feel so old.)
My neck, elbows and wrists are yelling at me to give the computer and iphone a break.
I am a little bit nauseous and dizzy.
And I am terrified of giving my body the rest that it needs.
My heart says: oh, no, we can’t do that, I have too much to write, too mcuh to say, so many mamas in need of comfort.
And besides, the house is a mess. Can. Not. Rest!!! (Inner child stomping and poking her tongue out.)
My body is saying: Oh yeah? You’ve got to take care of me. And if you don’t understand hints, than I’ll just have to slap you.
Sure I’ve written before about how depression taught me that when it comes to physical pain v. emotional pain, well, the physical pain is the lesser of evils. So true. What is also true for me is that in order to prevent the physical pain from becoming emotional pain, I need to allow myself to hurt. I need to lick my wounds, I need to cry. Even if it is at the lake, on a gorgeous day, while good music is playing and the kids are cavorting with friends.
So I took myself off to the side, skipped stones on the clear waters of Cayuga Lake and allowed the tears to roll down my cheeks without rubbing my eyes.
About 15 minutes later I went back. Nobody noticed.
That was yesterday.
Still in pain.
DH took the kids out grocery shopping, to give me time to myself. It was great, but not enough. It feels like it will never be enough. Can never be enough.
And that scares me.
I am scared of my body needing more attention and more time to heal.
So I am reminding myself that it is OK to be terrified of having to rest. I don’t really know how to rest.
It’s time I figure it out.
An ode and a plea to my body:
Oh my poor body, I hear you , you are dead serious, and you have every right to complain.
You carry, clean, hug, support, cook, teach, comfort. Yet I am not giving you comfort back.
Dear body, I am so sorry I’ve been treating you like this.
I’m not exactly sure how to make time in my day to take more care of you.
I don’t know how to rest. I’m a do-er.
But I will have to learn.
I promise you, dear body of mine, that I am listening.
How about if we play nice?
We are in it together. Let’s make it work.
And that’s it for now.
I’m going to publish this post without trying to make it perfect, so I can move away from the screen faster.
I will report as things progress. Tomorrow morning I’ll be making appointments with a chiropractor, and a physical therapist. My husband has set up a keyboard and a screen for my laptop. And right now, I’m going to lie down until the toddler wakes up from his nap.
Tell me, how is your body doing?
Feel free to rant, bitch, moan, and complain.
How do you feel about gratitude and happiness?
Can you give yourself permission around this?
As always, truckloads of love to all who read.
Whether you comment or not, may the joy be with you.