Do you believe it is never
acceptable to put yourself first? Do you feel guilty if you don’t jam
forty-eight hours of tasks into a six hour period? Do you force a brave smile
and try to meet everyone else’s expectations even though you’re so exhausted
you’d rather curl up in a corner and wish the world away?
If any of the above describes you,
perhaps you’ve just lost your way.
I’ve come to realize life is much
like making your way through a treacherous swamp. Sometimes what looks to be
the safest patch of green grass turns out to be a sinkhole and before you know
it, you’re up to your nose hairs in despair.
Despair is dangerously toxic. Complete
loss of hope is fatal.
After surviving an abusive
childhood, I still struggle to navigate this swamp. Even now, heavily armed
with a supportive spouse and wonderful children, despair sometimes creeps in
and poisons me. Hope leaves me and I wonder if my parents had a point. Maybe the
world would have been better off without me. Maybe I was the greatest mistake
they ever made.
Then just when my head is about to disappear
below the surface, a firm gentle hand nudges me onto safe solid ground. Be it
God, fate or my guardian angel smacking me on the back of the head to get my
attention, I’m pulled free of the soul-sucking quagmire, given a good shake to
ensure I’m listening and settled back on the path. I’m always left with the
distinct impression that I have work yet to do. And to successfully complete
that work, I must do as follows:
Take
care of my body. I know it sounds simple but to a sedentary desk diva who
lives on coffee, junk food and maybe one healthy meal a day, this was a big
step. I’m happy to say I’m a month into my membership at a local Curves
(women’s only gym) and three weeks into a nutritionally balanced diet. I feel
more energized than I have in a very long time. It’s amazing what the right
food and exercising with good friends can also do for the mind. Please don’t
tell my doctor. He’ll just do the I-told-you-so dance. The jokes on him though.
The healthier I get, the less he sees me.
When I leave the day job and go
home, I leave work at work. My
workload cares less if I live or die. Why should I grant it the power to kill
me?
Give
myself permission to be flexible. It’s okay if I don’t write every day and
churn out a novel every three months. I started writing to escape stress and
leave something behind once I’m gone. I’m thrilled to have four books published
and a fifth under contract. I adore my readers and appreciate their kind words
and support more than they’ll ever know. So, it’s okay to let the stories ease
into “being”. Stories can’t be forced. Quality over quantity.
Be
still and listen. Sometimes the answers can’t make their way through all
the day to day chaos clogging up my mind. I disappear into the woods, breathe
deep and listen.
Realize
what really matters. What happens if the house isn’t spotless every single
day? What happens if all the clothes aren’t washed and the sink is currently
housing a day’s worth of dishes? What happens if I don’t take care of all these
things before I collapse into bed? You know what happens? Nothing. They’ll get
done eventually. I love exploring old cemeteries and reading the epitaphs. I
can’t remember a single one that said: In loving memory of her clean house,
starched clothes and spotless china.
Above
all –watch for others who may have
lost their way. Maybe I can help guide them to solid ground. After all, sometimes
even a simple smile can light up a dreary swamp.
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