Breathe. Just breathe. WTF is that? When my head feels like it’s tingling and I’m swelled with reactions to this life? Like I could punch something so hard if I hear another minute of whining and crying and nasty?
I have a beautiful life. A funny, smart, handsome husband. Six healthy kids, a nice roof over our heads, a husband who earns enough to take care of all of us — good schools for the kids, to boot. I get to buy organic produce, dairy from grass-fed cows, to go to the doctor when needed, regular teeth cleanings, some help with cleaning and laundry. Cars. A few trips a year. A dog, a sweet dog named Bodhi.
But right now it’s not so pretty. My brain is tending toward cranky and falling right in with the pervading ungrateful, unappreciative outlook. I find myself feeling — from time to time and maybe more during the summer when everyone is home — like a failure.
Like I’m not contributing the way I could. Bored with the mundane. Annoyed. Powerless. Even worse because I know the brain science, the power of positivity; I know my core desired feelings…and I’m no ocean right now. And on top of all that, I weigh more when I feel this way. No matter what I do, the weight stays on as a reminder that I’m hanging on. To old habits, patterns of responding rather than reflecting. Of not going to the breath. Not having my own back. Not being here now. In this moment. Then, this moment.
That’s where the rub is. The perpetual tide shift. I’m free in theory, but not always in practice.
I don’t practice being free — by writing, hitting publish. By going to pole dancing, regularly. By painting. By cooking — for fun. Getting up earlier to meditate or stretch or go for a walk. By whisking my husband away on a trip…just the two of us to get back to what it feels like to enjoy one another. To be friends again rather than co-captains of the Parenting Team.
Because the whining, the “Mom, you’re so weird,” the back talk, the “I’m bored,” the being in love with all things electronic…that’s not going away.
When it’s gone, they’ll be away. They’ll be in college or beyond. When all these button-pushing things are gone, they will be too. Hopefully off learning or making their happy way in the world.
But I want to enjoy them now. And I don’t want to wait until they are all off in college to get to all the goodness I want to be in this life.
I can feel it, sense it, in my dreams. I can feel it when I’m in a yoga class or even DJing one. The perfect music to accompany movements. Just zoning in on the breath, the muscles to invite, to sense the shortness of breath and slow it down. This is a miracle. This is a drug of the healthy variety.
But how to tap into that when not in the class, or on the retreat, guiding a workshop, or walking on the beach?
It’s the allowing of grace.
How do you allow grace?