Choosing to rest is a radical act-- and necessary
Today's forecast of yet more rain is going to slow me down a little, and that's a good thing. I have a few errands to accomplish, and there's always dishes to do, but for the most part, I'm going to just see what the day has in store. I have a bad (?) habit of, as my dad used to say, "wishing my life away." Which is not entirely accurate-- but yes, I tend to look ahead and see the days falling away from the calendar, and not appreciating the gift each day can be.
I have to remind myself I have a full month before school year #37 (eek) starts. Yes, there are a couple of PD days the week prior, but I AM NOT ON THE CLOCK YET. I need to shut that termagant siren off-- she can just hush for a few more weeks.
Yesterday was pretty dang idyllic; great weather, Holly was awesome, G helped out-- we had a great day that included ice cream and pool time. That's summer.
So I'm not going to fill this day with must-do stuff. Nor am I going to unstopper my metaphorical ears and give in to doing school prep. NOPE. That can wait. The hardest boundary to maintain is one with myself. I need to learn to let myself have days off-- without guilt, without panic, without feeling like I'm not pulling my weight or doing my share. Other people nap, read, float along for a day or so-- I need to.
I read recently that to be constantly busy and "productive" is a form of trauma response. Not confronting that idea is pretty seductive-- after all, I was kept busy my whole growing up ("if you don't have something to do, I'll find you something"), and to take time to just dwell feels like I'm going to get yelled at. By whom, though?
Nelson Mandela used the poem "Invictus" by William Ernest Henley as a means of survival, emotionally and mentally, when he was incarcerated for almost 28 years in South Africa. The last two lines of the poem resonate with me, and should:
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