...and miles to go (before i sleep)...

"You look...tired."

Thanks. I know that. I am.

Were we chatting IRL, there'd have already been an uncomfortably long pause, as I struggled to locate that brain-to-mouth connection.  Silence would stretch into awkwardness, as you waited for me to keep up to my end of the conversation.  "I'm sorry. I'm so tired.", you'd hear.  Over and again.  A mindless repetition during even the shortest of exchanges.

(Just ask my *Sea-Star...she can attest!)

I. Am. Tired.
In all the ways.
And it shows.
I look, in my less-than-gentle appraisal of self, much like a worn out pillow...gone all soft and mushy and grey about the edges.  My shoulders slump in like empty casing, and my waist...ugh...what waist...
Where once I stood tall and firm (in disposition and musculature), now I slouch and slump.

I am tired.

There is added weight...both figurative and literal, round about me.

The postpartum pounds that are stuck like glue, by prolactin and cortisol.
The grasping toddler limbs that need constant reassurance and pick-ups.
The strain of caregiving that spreads out far wider than just this little household.
The burdens of others very real and very present and very overwhelming needs, and my own inability to not dive in to try to help.

The unwanted weight of shackles round my feet...roots I can't yet untangle...others' luggage strapped on my back...

I am tired.
And I am tired of being tired.

Because I remember the alternative. I remember the me of 4 or so years ago.
I remember her, and I want to be her again.

I want:
 her energy and her spark
her sparkle and her creativity
her resourcefulness and her grit

Four years ago, after biking through the bay area at Sandy Hook.

And oh yes...I want her body.

The one that could recover.  The one that could stretch and lift and power through.
The body that I could push beyond its limits...take 5...and then go again.
The body that wasn't so tired.

~~~

"You look...tired."

Thanks. I know that. I am.

I'm not getting enough sleep. I'm not getting the right fuel.
I don't have a village...or even a hamlet.
The team? It's me.  I'm the team.
(I'm also the problem.)
I'm so damn over-extended in serving everyone else.

~~~

I'm tired.

Of this.

This version of me that doesn't feel or look or act like me.

This version that is Just Worn Out.

So I've gotten back on the bike.

Not this one, sadly. This one was crushed when a tree fell on the storage shed.
Like most of the losses, it's yet to be replaced.

Literally.

The stationary cycle.

The one that, for a while, I was cranking away at each day.  On which, for a short while there, I was putting in my daily 20, sweating my way through lockdown/postpartum and distance-learning and Covid and social-distancing.  Pedaling toward victory...until I quit.

When things got...hard...harder...more complicated...more chaotic...

I've chosen September to start back up.

I've a plan in place...a challenge to only myself...

1 mile for each date.

1 for September 1st

2 for September 2nd

and so on...

through the 30th

And as for accountability?

This.

This page.

This post.

Where today it's the 8th of September and I've done

the 7 and 6 and 5 and 4 and 3 and 2 and 1

of this month's yesterdays.

Where I was about to finish up typing and hop back on finish out my 8...

but now it's storming outside, and I've boys to wrangle into the safest corner.

465 miles.

By the end of the month.

465 miles, just for me.

Cycled in silence...or in the chatter of a phone vent sesh with my *Sea-Star...or in the sweaty hands turning the page of a book read for pleasure.

465 miles and all the minutes and hours I'm taking for myself in which to cycle through them.

Because I'm tired of being this tired.

I want to be strong again.

*Sea-Star: the nickname for one of my

biological half-siblings as we navigate

our strange sisterhood of genes and

choice and overcoming.

...first bite...

 6.September.2023

Henri's 1st day of Pre-K (the homeschool edition)

"The beginning is the most important part of the work" -Plato

"Promise me you'll always remember: You're braver than you believe, stronger than you seem, and smarter than you think. " - A.A. Milne

~~~

Here's to setting your spark ✨ ablaze and finding your own lifelong love of learning, little one.

Here's to celebrating your unique interests, creativity, and approach.

Here's to developing your intellect alongside your independence.

And...most importantly...here's to you and all that you are becoming!

🍎

...slow down...

While my faith is of great importance to me, I have found in adulthood that a centering around the idea

~what's for me will not pass me~

has served to bring me more peace and hope then I find in my religious practice. 

(I grew up in an exceptionally conservative household in which God was, in many ways, weaponized against the very natural experiences, questions, and expressions of childhood and youth.

While I consciously, even now, reject that fire and brimstone, I find myself forever branded the disobedient and disappointing child of an angry Father. My relationship to my God and to my religion is one in which I struggle to find peace, acceptance and comfort.  Yet try I do...

But that is for another conversation.  One that I don't think I'll ever have in this space.)

Having gotten that 'out of the way'...

The point, I suppose, is that I put a significant amount of stock in the moment of clarity when something meaningful crosses my path.  I am a collector...a saver...a screenshot for remembrance sort. My gallery full of clippings to remind me.

Books to put on hold at the library.

Recipes to tailor.

Upcoming events and interesting locales.

Educational toys and household items I didn't know I was missing out on.

And words.

Words that zapped me like a bolt of lightning when my eyes lingered for a moment longer.

These words:

Slow Down.

In particular, a post that crossed my feed.  A total stranger.  Unknown, because I cropped the screenshot to just the words, before saving it.

"Let your child(ren) see you slow down."

Let your child(ren) see you rest when rest is needed...relax when overwhelmed...seek solitude and silence when the volume is too much. 

Let your child(ren) observe you care for yourself as well as you care for them.

Let your child(ren) learn self-care by demonstrating your own, and they will be better for it.

Let your child(ren) see you slow down whenever and wherever you need to, and they will learn to do the very same for themselves.

This, friends...

Is wild.

Is novel.

Is...dangerous?

Slow down?

But...all the things...all the balance...all the emergencies...

Slow down?

And, what?  Watch it all fall apart?

Or maybe...

Slow down, and gradually set it all somewhere safe to pick back up once you are fully rested...fully recovered...fully recharged.

Or...

Maybe...

Slow down

and

Set it all somewhere safe

and

Only pick up what you can handle...what you want to handle...what you choose to handle.

The rush isn't actually getting me anywhere faster.

The chaos isn't adding function.

But the quiet of a few minutes with coffee and a good book?

The pouring into self before draining into others?

The sleeping until exhaustion is appeased?

The corner seat with a blank screen to write it out?

Oh?!?

Yes.

Slowing down.

Teaching myself and my child(ren) of the value in slowing down and finding rest and recovery and reassurance in the silence of stillness.

This.
Was meant for me.

This.

Will not pass me by.

September is for Slowing Down...

and finding myself anew amidst the detritus that sloughs off when my constant motion comes to a stop.

 

...September : The List...

First days.

What a gift.

The hope that comes with turning another page.

September has seemingly snuck up...at least where I'm concerned.  August just passed me by with barely a nod in my direction, so overwhelmed was I by All The Things that needed my full attention.

These early autumnal days are sure to fill up quickly, as we move back into our homeschool schedule and focus on building and rebuilding. 

While school-aged families are bidding farewell to summer vacation, we're just getting started on enjoying the late summer pleasures of (hopeful) beachside days and evenings in the bay.

 

...september plans...