If you’ve ever flown on a commercial airline, you’ve seen and heard the safety protocols. The first time I saw the part about the oxygen mask, I was puzzled. If you have a child, put your mask on first? Before theirs? Seems to go against the mothering instinct.
Of course, we know that the reason for this is so that you get the oxygen you need to be able to help others. By getting your own on first, you can help your child.
So what happens when you forget your oxygen mask on the ground, in real life?
These last few weeks, I’ve been finding out. If you read my recent post about taking time to intentionally spend time with God, you know that I’m going through a hectic season right now. I’m irritable and impatient, perpetually tired and eating badly. I’m mothering in a frazzled, unfocused way that I never ever wanted to.
I haven’t slept for more than 4 or 5 hours in over a year. Between pregnancy insomnia, a newborn, and older children who still need middle of the night tuck-ins, I’m living coffee to coffee. It’s loud in my house from morning until night, which can feel like nails on a chalkboard to an introvert like myself. I’m trying so hard to be everything to my family, that I feel myself becoming nothing.
Have you ever felt that way?
I know that this may sound like a pity party, but that’s not why I’m mentioning it (plus, there are no pints of Ben & Jerry’s so this is definitely not a pity party). All of the things that were sucking the strength out of me were my own doing. Little by little, I had allowed myself to stretch too thin. On bad days, you could practically see through me. Those were the days when I was sarcastic and snippy. When I used a swear word in front of my children. When I thought that if one more thing happened, I was going to explode.
And then something does. A cereal bowl gets dumped, a knee gets skinned, a wallet gets forgotten when going grocery shopping. Except I don’t explode. I’m just sitting there with a breakfast mess, a howling kid, or a cart full of food I can’t buy. And that’s when I realize that I’m running on empty.
About a week ago, I was knee deep in one those bad days and my husband was running interference for me. I must have looked like a crazy woman for him to jump into the fray without being asked, breaking up arguments, answering questions, and holding the baby. This is usually my domain but I was obviously not handling it.
I was trying to make a nutritious meal, encourage the kids’ curiosity, cuddle the baby, change the laundry, remember what I had to do on the blog that day, straighten up the living room, figure out when I had time to do my other side work, etc., etc., etc. I was trying to juggle everything so I was getting nothing done.
It wasn’t until I was at the gym the next morning that I saw what I was missing. I had been going infrequently since around Christmas and, instead, sneaking in exercise when I could at home. But that day, instead of rushing home after a quick mile on the treadmill, I spent some time with the weights. I listened to my favorite podcast. I stretched.
My oxygen mask was alone time. And I wasn’t putting it on enough to breathe.
Wives and mothers spend a lot of their day pouring love and attention out on their husbands and children. But if we don’t pour back into ourselves, we run dry. Empty.
It makes me cringe to admit that I can’t be everything and do everything. I’ve always believed that with the right system, the right attitude, the right tools, I can accomplish whatever I set my mind to. But the reality is that I can only do it for so long. Until I begin to feel dry and brittle and breakable.
So the other morning I took the older kids to school…and left the younger ones home with dad. Yes, he had to wake up early to be with them and usually I’m the early bird on AM duty. Yes, I felt a little guilty. But the car was quieter, the conversation relaxed, and the ride home was blessedly silent. Afterward, I sat in the car for a few minutes, stretching it out. And when I walked in the door, I had more to give.
I had denied myself “me time” because I felt there was no time, I didn’t think I needed it, and because I was embarrassed that I couldn’t juggle it all with aplomb. After all, weren’t other mothers doing exactly what I was doing, except way better?
Maybe they are, maybe they aren’t. But I can’t make myself crazy trying to compare myself to others, especially theoretical women who may or may not even exist. I also can’t allow myself to get so depleted that I have nothing left to give to my family.
I didn’t like the person I had become. But I was relieved to realize that it wasn’t a permanent thing. I could change if I wanted to. It only required that I ask for help. And stop feeling guilty for putting on my oxygen mask first.
Have you ever felt like this? Do you ever let your desire to take care of others supersede your need to care for yourself? How do you deal with it? I’d love to hear how other women handle these overwhelming feelings. Leave me a comment below!
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