I allowed myself to be nourished today. I let myself wake up naturally. The sun was shining. I let myself be nourished by my home, the quiet, the comforts. I nourished my body with healthy food, plenty of water, a good walk outside, sunshine, fresh air. My heart was nourished by the warmth of a single mom friend who walked with me. Back home, I felt completely uninspired to cook myself dinner. I ordered in, paid for some kind soul to cook for me. This felt like a true luxury as the food was delivered to my door and I gave thanks many times as I ate. I let myself settle into rest earlier than normal. It feels so strange to be this well-nourished. I want this feeling to be more familiar. God, let deep rest and nourishment become normal for me.
I felt like I wasn’t taking enough time for nourishment, so I spent some time in the kitchen yesterday and today, making myself nourishing soups and salads…what a triumph! But then I didn’t sew as many masks as I thought I would, and I just felt tired from standing, chopping, cooking, and what I really wanted was someone to cook for me. Last weekend I was productive, making multiple masks a day, but I didn’t get to my meditation until very late, and I felt so off from not beginning my day with meditation, as I have been doing for over eight years now. The week before that my meditation practice was simply sublime, but my kitchen was a disaster and I was terribly hungry and tried to ignore my body’s hunger signs (which is bad, don’t do that) and gave myself meager rations of whatever because I didn’t want to bother with cooking. When my kids are here they drive me crazy with their bickering and the clumsy way they thunder about the piles of disorganization and when they’re gone my nervous system goes haywire because we are hardwired to gather close when times are tough… I crave space when my home is noisy with my children’s needs, and I crave their voices when the silence in my house feels too spacious… How do I find balance when the center is always shifting?
I stayed up until 3am sewing masks. Today I sewed more masks. I’m glad I can sew, glad I have fabric, glad I can help in some way. But I am so, so tired now. I remember that if I’m running on empty I can’t fill anyone else up. Somehow I managed to make it through today, being a mom, being an adult, being someone who wants to help by making masks. We had three good meals and plenty of snacks, we went on a walk in the beautiful sunshine. We laughed, talked, shared, and I short-circuited plenty of little spats with my own brand of silly mom humor. But now I’m empty, barely running on fumes. There’s only one thing left to do (after showering and brushing my teeth, of course)— GO TO BED EARLY!
Today I turn 43; This body has made 43 trips around the sun, and it seems significant that I find myself alone to send up rockets of appreciation from my square foot of earth to celebrate the occasion of my birth. I like myself. I like the company I keep in the quiet moments when there is no one else to break the silence, when I have the space to listen to the deep music of what continues without human effort, what remains, what hums when we finally slow down and accept that enough is enough.
I’ve been sleeping alone since June of 2017 when my children’s father decided he was done with our marriage. At first I felt as though I was falling through endless space, or better yet, I was a boat lost at sea in a storm with no safe harbor, tossed around on waves of worthlessness, anxiety for the future, hopeless and futility. I survived the storm. I put my focus on me and my recovery. I vowed to discover what unconditional self-love is; I also vowed to become financially independent. I’m made headway with self-love; I’m still working on the financial independence, therefore, I’m still single, and I’M GLAD. I’m committed to awakening, to allowing the self within me to emerge and express herself authentically. I realize I like being alone and I like the company I keep. I realized I don’t need a man to be complete. I am grateful I have this freedom to be me, on my own.
For the longest time I felt overwhelmed by my feelings, and then one day my husband decided he no longer wanted to be married. Now I wasn’t just overwhelmed by my feelings, I was drowning in them. In my devastation I found a coach. This coach suggested we try EFT. I found it helpful, but never remembered to do it on my own. Then, in spring of this year, I stood at the edge of the void, looking down, trying to figure out where my kids and I would live, and I started feeling overwhelmed. What can I do? I asked. The voice within reminded me of EFT. I began tapping every day at the beginning of my meditation practice. I cried every day for months. Every day I’d have mountains of snotty tissues piled around my meditation cushion. Time went on. I kept tapping. Gradually, I didn’t cry as much. Gradually, I started to feel lighter. To celebrate my 3000th day of meditation I shifted from tapping on difficult emotions to tapping on the truths I wish to embody as I become happier, healthier, stronger, more empowered. I am so grateful for this technique and for the teachers who have made it accessible to me. If you’re feeling heavy and you know it, tap away, my friends, tap away. You might be amazed at how it works.
I’ve had this lingering cold since September, finally went to the doctor yesterday; she wants me to squirt stuff up my nose, gargle with salt water, and rest. I’m tired of feeling draggy, tired of living surrounded by boxes, tired of being tired. So today, I rested. And it’s nuts what the voices in my head tell me. Don’t be lazy. It’s not so bad. Look at your house! It’s deplorable. You should be ashamed of yourself! My overworking made me sick. And now I’m trying to get better… but somehow I’m not allowed to do the things that will help me get better? Another voice speaks. Discern the voice of truth. Listen a little more deeply. Hear the song of being. Let yourself heal.
Eight years. Eight years of pausing, sitting still, closing my eyes and going within. I remember well the day eight years ago, when, pregnant, feeling sick, overwhelmed by my responsibilities as wife and mother, I called out to the void I’m going crazy! I’m losing it! Help me! What should I do? And the Voice said You must meditate. And I thought, Of course. I had a regular practice before I met my husband, but (and maybe you can relate) self-care always fell to the bottom of the list when I was in a relationship with someone else. The Voice said Meditate and I remembered that this was an option, and I sat. I started small, just five minutes a session, but I quickly worked my way up to thirty minutes a day. Eight years and I haven’t missed a day. Eight years…I have shown up for myself. My ex said You meditate too much when he gave me the list of reasons he was leaving our marriage. That was two years ago, and he’s gone now, but I’m still meditating. Eight years I’ve said to myself I matter. This matters. I’m going to keep showing up. And I will, for eight more years, and eight more and eight more after that. I’ll show up every single day, rain or shine, in sickness or in health, for richer or for poorer, until death closes my body’s eyes and opens the eyes of my soul. Then, there will be no surprises, because in meditation I have seen it all.
I was married to a hairdresser, and in June 2017 he told me he would no longer cut my hair. (Or sleep in the same bed. Or share our life, our finances, our time.) I’ve been sleeping alone since then, and have fought mightily to stay committed to this plane of existence, and I have progressed by leaps and bounds since June 2017, when I was a messy slobbering puddle on the floor grieving my life before it was blown apart. As time passed I discovered that I enjoyed sleeping alone, and I felt more committed to staying on this plane of existence, but I still hadn’t gotten my hair cut. I had built up the importance of finding a new hairdresser to the point of feeling anxious and overwhelmed at the prospect of choosing. So I didn’t choose. I did nothing. My dear friend gifted me with a hair cut last July when I visited her in Colorado, and I was oh so grateful to be neatened up a bit… but I still hadn’t found someone else to cut my hair in this town where I live, until today. Today I picked up the phone, dialed the salon nearest my house, booked the next available appointment, found my way into a chair just an hour later. I got a haircut! I got a haircut! I got a haircut! And I am free at last.
Oh my mind, why so sour today? You’d be sour, too, if you were expected to figure this mess out. You don’t have to figure this out. Who told you that you did? Well, you aren’t figuring it out yourself, and someone has to do it. Oh, sweetheart, just breathe and rest. There isn’t anything to be figured out. Just breathe and rest.