By: Jen Wainwright
How the hell did I get here?
Every parent already knows the answer.
How did I get here, barely able to walk, limping from my bed to the medicine cabinet – hoping and praying that I had remembered to buy pain reliever on one of those trips to the store even though I don’t like pills – as my back had kinked up to a level of pain I wish I could forget.
Did I help a friend move into a home, carrying boxes, or move heavy furniture in my own home, or something – anything – physical?
Nope.
Actually, the exact opposite.
Lemme ask you something, Parents?
How the hell did I get here?
How – when we all know that we must make time for ourselves, and that we have to take care of ourselves to be the best people and the best parents we can be? How – when we know that eating right and exercising are essential to vitality and health? How, when we actually crave all of the above…how the hell do we not do it?
I know what you’re thinking. The List of Life: Work, kids, house, laundry, dog, parents, bills, family time, dance class, work, sporting events, doctor appointments, dentist appointments, mammograms, deadlines, friends, and…oh yeah, me time.
That’s how.
Am I really just another statistic? Just another mom who can’t seem to find time to do the things that I need, too? I’m seriously gagging on my own story, and I have a sneaking suspicion that you are, too. Because deep down – maybe you know that you’re just weeks away from your back giving out, too, and that you are currently rocketing through life somewhere between the bottom of Your List of Life and a crossed out mention on the third page…with the words Grocery Shopping written over top of it.
I’m with you. I hate saying it, but I’m right there with you. Here I’ve been pretending, fooling myself into believing that, while I’m busy, I’m somehow taking good care of myself. I mean,
yeah…sure…I haven’t put on my SELF LOVE t-shirt in a minute – wait, now that I mentioned it, where the hell is that t-shirt? Ahhh, never mind. The damn thing is probably too small anyway.
And, you know, if you’re reading this and thinking, “Well, I make time for myself. I find a way to work out, and balance my parenting life with my personal life”, I say – Good for You! But, don’t be smug. Before you made the commitment to better your balance, you were probably where I am…where we are. I hope, truly, that your “Aha” moment wasn’t nearly as painful as mine, but I’m glad you experienced it nonetheless. And maybe. Just maybe. You’re reading this thinking that it’s not, per se, movement that you’re craving, but rather this art class you’ve been longing to take…? This book you’ve wanted to read, the one with impressive layers of dust on it…?
Look. In the backwards (no pun intended) kind of way that Life often goes, my back giving out on me may be the best thing that has happened to me in a long while.
Too long, truthfully.
It initially forced me to take a MF minute out of Life, and – wait for it – get a massage.
(Oh yes I did, and – wait for it – I threw caution to the (price tag) wind and purchased six more upfront and have now scheduled time for each of them. Can I get a Mmmhmmmph?!)
The pain in my back reminded me (scared the hell out of me) to stretch. To breathe. To reconnect with my body, and to plug in and pay attention to – wait for it – me. Me! What a concept, right? Seems like I’ve heard it somewhere before, like 8.4 million times? I must have been too busy to listen.
So, take it from a fellow Parent. Don’t wait until your back hurts (expletive, expletive, expletive) badly – just go get a massage. Breathe. Do yourself the favor to carve out some You time before this sad, pathetic, painful story becomes yours, too. If it’s already your story – I happen to know a couple of great masseuses…Get a hold of me.
And that SELF LOVE t-shirt? You know, the too-tight, wrinkled-as-all-get-out-because-it’s-been-in-the-back-of-your-closet-for-like-forever shirt/attitude/feeling? (Well, I don’t know about yours. That’s just where mine happened to be.) Put it on! Own it. Dance in it. Share it. Call someone randomly and yell, “Self Love!” in the phone, and then hang up! Valentine’s Day is around the corner. Let that SELF LOVE flow, you know…
My Neck.
My Back.
(What? My Netflix and My Snacks, rrrright? )
JEN’S ZEN
– Because the damn dishes are never done. Laundry is a cruel joke. And because children are beautiful lessons in Patience and Counting. 10, 9, 8, 7 Breathe…
Jen is a freelance writer, parent to three, and she’s been a stepparent for over 15 years. She is well-equipped to discuss and write about the great, and the not-so-great, details of all-things-parenting. Along with spending quality time with her family, Jen enjoys music, chocolate, camping and relaxing. And laughing!