Random Thoughts: Taking Care of Myself

 

I'm tired.  We're just coming off a long weekend and a busy start to this week.  Today was our first 'down' day.  And so of course, I've spent the entirety of the day trying to catch up on household things, and do a bit of writing, and make sure I get supper well started because I have kids to keep this afternoon and I've fretted over a half dozen jobs that need to be seen to seemingly right away but I'm not getting to at all.

I've been rushing myself all afternoon long, and I'd been sitting here writing and I thought, "Oh golly, this is too much.... Oh gosh, this doesn't sound good at all...Oh goodness why can't I make sense of anything?"   And when I paused for a moment, I realized, I am tired.  I could happily close my eyes and take a nap sort of weary.  I've done too many 'should' tasks today, this week thus far and I'd not considered that I was too weary when the day started.  I'd fallen into bed last night and gone right to sleep and had to push myself to get out of bed at all this morning.

I've done all the things I felt I was supposed to do (except keeping kids...that's coming up in less than an hour) and no time at all asking myself what I needed.  And now it has hit me like a ton of bricks.  I'm tired.  Read that last line with a whiny voice and you've got a perfect imitation of me just now.

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Earlier today, I was making the bed and thinking of all the tasks I needed to do to make the house presentable.  Not clean, not deep cleaned, just presentable.  I began to think of writing and that I have not touched the book I'd started in a bit over two weeks now.  I've done nothing on Substack towards finishing the last post I started there.  Ditto for Roots and Rabbit Trails blog and the post that needs to be finished up on that site.  I'd not yet begun the next post for BHJ.

I reflected on the fact that I needed only one post to finish off February here on this blog and I thought, "I'll do that first..."   That's when I began to realize that I've pushed myself into being too rigid with my writing schedule.  I'm not scheduling for the book or the other sites.  Only for this one.  I never intended to be stuck into a scheduled number of posts per week or month but here I am.  

And my inner voice, not the critic but her first cousin, the one who pushes me to do the housework and plan the projects and be super organized, insists that I must keep to a rigid posting schedule or I'll not dedicate enough time to the writing.

Honestly, I can see that I've got it all wrong. Life is still fairly full of things. I can make time for only so much writing each day.  If I insist on making the only writing I do daily be here on this one blog, there is not going to be enough time to write anything anywhere else.  Least of all working on that book I've started.

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It's partly a procrastination trap...I know it is.  I often will box myself in like this when I feel I am getting out of my comfort zone.  Right now, I am WAY OUT of the comfort zone.  Into the realm of my mind screeching caution sirens are sounding off.  It sounds when I take time out to write a post for Substack, but it never stops when I go to work on the book.

But it's also being chronically busy and weary and not taking time to consider why.

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Right now...Knowing how tired I am, I'm going to stop for the day.  I'm going to take 15 minutes to have a cup of coffee.  Then I'm going to get ready to go keep the kids.  And I'm going to call it all enough for today.   

This evening, I'm going to read. I have a book I've yet to finish because I haven't made time to read.  I have five more sitting by my chair that I want to read but won't start until I finish the one I started in January.

And tomorrow, I'm going to start afresh and gauge what I do by how I feel instead of what I think I 'should' be doing.

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That was yesterday....

Did I read?  Oh no!  I went to keep the kids and saw them through homework and household chores.  I came home and finished up our supper, then served it and cleaned the kitchen afterwards.  And then I began researching a tough brick wall situation in my genealogy research.  It was not restful.  It was not fun.  It was hard and difficult and unsatisfying and added to my tension and tiredness.

I finally shut the computer down about 9:30 when John put on a murder mystery series we're enjoying just now.  I watched the episode, went to bed and dropped right off to sleep.   I woke at 3am from a nightmare and then my legs were aching so I couldn't go back to sleep.  I got up for an hour or so and then crawled back into bed and went right back to sleep until 8am this morning.

I told John, "I'm not doing much today..." but I have.  I've picked up the house and worked on the checkbook and attempted to pay bills online while fighting the slow computer and websites that refused to recognize me, the card or the expiration date, depending on which site I was working with.  That took a long while.  I mixed up bread and prepared lunch and cleaned up the kitchen.  Then I pushed myself to go write.  But just as with yesterday, I felt so doggone tired.  I knew I'd be interrupted twice, once when the oven had preheated and was ready for the bread to go in and the next time when I had to take the bread out.  

This time, I waited until the oven heated, put the bread in, set the timer and lay down on the bed and I've been thinking about quite a lot today as I've puttered around doing 'nothing'.

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I cannot remember the last time I devoted any real time to self-care.  I'm talking about the physical self-care: shaving, smoothing, moisturizing, deep conditioning, pampering.  It's been months.  I might take a quick moment to run a razor over my legs, or to put a bit of conditioner on my hair while I'm showering, but I'm definitely not pampering me at all.  

I've not made a moment to read or taken time to play with my Junk Journal.  

My closet and clothing drawers are pretty much a tumbled mess.  I can't find a thing to wear, and I tend to give up and settle for the baggy, ill-fitting things, not because they are comfortable, but because they are all I can easily find and I won't spend the time to sort out the nicer things.

I haven't had a single artist's date in MONTHS.  And when I think of taking time to have one, I find myself saying, "Well I just took the kids out on Monday."  I did indeed, but was that an artist's date?  No.  It was a lovely day, but it was for the children and took my full attention.  I didn't do anything for me.

I haven't read my Bible.  Or taking a moment to meditate or pray.

I've neglected me on all the fronts: physical, emotional, mental and spiritual.

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There's the issue.  I won't do it for me.  I'll do it for everyone else, but I struggle with the idea that if I'm tired or thinking of doing something that would interest only myself, that I'm somehow wasting time and being selfish.  

I've spent the past five months learning to play but I've struggled hard with not making play feel like work.  Because it can't possibly be okay to just play without pushing to meet a goal of doing so much at one sitting instead of enjoying the process of being creative.

I've been making writing time a priority several days a week, but I've felt incredibly guilty for going off into my workspace by myself...Mind you, John has said nothing to make me feel so.  At a certain point most afternoons, he looks at the clock and says, "Well you'd better go to your room, or you'll get nothing done today..."  

That doesn't make writing feel rigid to me.  It makes me feel it's important to John because I've said it was important to me.   But it's important to note, I don't get up and go write for me.  I do it because I don't want to let John down.   I do it so I'll meet his expectations.

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This is what I plan to do with the one day remaining in this week.  I'm going to spend the day pampering myself.  I'll tweeze and shave and moisturize and condition and do all the things.   I'll take my time and do it lovingly, thanking my body for what it does daily. 

I'm going to set up outfits for the weekend and the start of next week.  It's a busy one again.  We'll need to leave the house early three mornings in a row.  Not searching for something to wear will relieve the stress of getting ready.  It will save time and I can get ready in less of a hurry.  

I'm going to sit down and read my book and play with the junk journals.  I'm going to sit on the porch and admire the good weather.  We're due a wintry weekend and start to next week.

I'm going to plan easy, but nourishing meals for the weekend and set out items to thaw so they are ready to be used.

I'll take 30 minutes each of those three days to pick up the house, empty the sink, put things away, make the bed.  These things must be done.  But if I take just that much time each day, then Tuesday I can relax and not worry about 'catching up'.  I can rest instead of facing another week feeling as I've done this week.

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That's my plan for taking care of me in the immediate future.  And I've made up my mind that if I am going to schedule anything at all over the next few weeks it will be to the things that will allow me to take care of me.  Not the household chores, or garden tasks, or writing posts on a set schedule.  

It will be time to read, time to meditate, artist's dates, pampering. 

The rest will fall into place.  It always does.