Lately I’ve noticed that I have been a little bit more volatile that I normally am. Over the weekend I was disproportionately upset with the people who didn’t know how to navigate a doorway with a wheel chair and the seagull that almost crapped all over me. So I wasn’t all that surprised that when we went to counseling on Tuesday, Jared suggested we talk about my anger problem. Me angry? Yes. The worst part is that there isn’t a really good reason. I wish that everybody not thinking like I do was a good reason to be irritated but it’s not. As we talked, it also came out that I am tired. Sure part of it is that there was spring break and we had been sick and as much as I wished that was the problem, it wasn’t. You see, I had been doing really well. After a year of climbing back up after a crazy few years I thought I was rested enough. I started to add things back in. Harmless things. A bible study on Monday nights and volunteering on Tuesdays, slightly higher expectations of how organized our home should be, nothing major. The catch was that in the process of trying to get back to my more normal life, I cut out sitting on the beach for an hour every day. Who does that anyway? Nobody. Certainly not a mother of two young kids. If my goal was to get back to normal, then it makes sense that I would take less time out for myself, that’s what everyone else is doing. Sure I have had people tell me that it is acceptable and a good thing that I rest and take a few hours to myself every day but I don’t believe it. I want to, but it is hard. It feels extravagant to take that much time to myself even if I know that I need it. None the less, knowing that it is what I have needed I went back to the beach. On Wednesday Chloe came along.
This morning I was still trying to convince myself that it was alright, even when life isn’t in chaos mode, it is still alright to take this much time to rest and restore. Not just to get some reserves in so that when life spins out of control again I am ready to handle it, but just because it is good.
As I sat there this morning I noticed that I am a little bit better, my head a little clearer. I realized that I just move at a different pace. I have learned to slow down. Every once in a while I forget why we go slow and I start to speed up but I just can’t handle it. The hard part is that it seems there aren’t a whole lot of other people that move at a slow pace. It is hard to connect with other moms when they are going fast, manically moving from one activity to the next. It is true that Claire has helped me to see the value in slowing down. When you are with her it is the only speed to go. You just can’t see her success when you are going fast. In a way, she forces me to slow down because I do want to see her world and the triumphs that she has in it. Without her showing me the beauty of slowing down, I don’t know that I ever would have seen it. I understand why others don’t appreciate it like I do, most likely they haven’t been shown the true beauty of it. As I sit and struggle with this I am curious, do you struggle with this? Do you feel guilty taking time for yourself even when you know that you need it?