Yesterday morning, I finally woke up to those beautiful Colorado blue skies that I know and love so much. It had been a long time comin. Having grown up in Michigan, I am no weather wimp, but the grey, stormy clouds and winter weather into the far reaches of May had finally pushed me into that ole blah feeling. You know, that kind where all of the problems in life get bigger than they really are, when 5 minutes of boredom feels like a life-sentence, and any whining or fighting from the kids may cause an explosion that rivals dynamite. But yesterday I woke up squinting at 5:30am because the bright blue sky and giant yellow sun were filling my bedroom with Colorado.
But when I dropped the boys off at VBS and sighed the sigh of a few hours of freedom, my lazy brain kept saying, “Flop down on the couch and rest. Stay home and get some cleaning done. Eat something you don’t want to share with the kids.”
Because that’s what I usually wind up doing when I get some time at home without the kids. I shovel my face full of junk and watch funny shows on TV to avoid my actual human feelings. I start cleaning, but remember that my kids will rob me of that feeling of accomplishment 45 seconds after they walk into the house, so I just give up and leave the mess. And the lie I tell myself about this laziness is that it will refuel me. Vegging out will lift my mood and clear my head. But the truth is quite the opposite. Vegging out kills my motivation. Eating garbage food makes me want to eat more garbage food. Taking a nap makes me incapable of getting a good night’s sleep, and fuels the exhaustion cycle I whine about.
I knew that yesterday, deep down. I knew a quiet morning of watching TV and eating chocolate would just make me more sad, especially since the storm clouds were supposed to roll back in by 5pm, and I’d berate myself for missing out on this first real Colorado Summer Day of the year.
So I took a quick trip to Boulder where I could hike for almost 2 hours before I had to pick up my kids. And the trail greeted me the way it always does: like an old friend who will never betray me. It never fails, this hiking thing. Every time I step on a trail, it’s like being wrapped up in the arms of my longest, most trusted friend. She tells me the truth. “You’ve gained a few pounds, eh?” But never with judgement. Never with shame. Just with an invitation to spend more time together. “Hang out with me more often,” she says, “and your weight and your worries will shrink.”
My friend rewards the hard work of my body with peace, quiet, babbling brooks, phenomenal views, a sense of adventure, and wonder at God’s creation. And I feel refueled. I feel able to face the hard things. I feel energized and less annoyed at all of the things that didn’t quite turn out the way I wanted them to.
And I am more capable of handling the things that just hours ago seemed insurmountable… and would still be insurmountable had I flopped down on the couch and eaten cookies.
Sometimes self-care requires a kick in the ass, and a lot of self-care is actual hard work of saying no to things that are hard to say no to, and saying yes to things that are more difficult but also more rewarding.
My self-care involves a lot of time in nature and in the mountains. I guess it’s just the way I was made. I don’t know how you were made or what you need to refuel you, but I’m willing to bet that flopping down on the couch and neglecting life’s responsibilities doesn’t really do the trick.
What’s that thing you used to do that greets you like an old friend every time you come back to it?
Painting? Crafting? Working? Pottery? Skiing? The beach? Yoga? Basketball? Theatre? Ballet? Writing?
Whatever it is that you left because your family needed you, that thing that fills you up is still there. It is still your friend, and it will greet you with open arms.
Friend, when I am too exhausted to do that thing I love, it’s usually because I haven’t taken the time to do that thing I love. Because when I do that thing I love, I can tolerate the difficult kid things. I can dive into the chores without loathing them. I can stay patient in the face of chaos. I can be strong when life gets hard.
Go be you in whatever 5 minutes you can find, friend. You won’t regret it.
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