Part of me thinks I have strategically bitten off more than I can chew career-wise, because if I actually did have down time I would probably just spend it in bed feeling bad for myself. I keep busy because I have to. I am a scheduling queen. Between 3 jobs and 3 kids (4 if you count my husband), my day is packed. There is no wiggle room or room for error. And that keeps me sane.
If you are a parent of a child with a disability, you probably hear about self-care all the time. Well meaning friends and relatives say things like "I hope you are doing something for you." with a pitying look in their eye. Although sometimes I feel guilty when people tell me to "take care of myself". I feel this way because when I think of self-care, I think of physical things. I feel bad because I am not running, or eating better. But then I refuse to allow myself to have negative feelings over an idea that is supposed to make me feel good! I do practice self-care. When I can afford it, I get my nails done. I even go to the salon to cover my every greying hair with a nice shade of blonde.
I recently signed up for Paint Nite as a fundraiser for my sons school. I have wanted to do one of these events for the past few years, and was very excited when the opportunity arose. It looked fun, and creative - right up my alley. I was lucky enough to be able to experience this night with some of the best people I know.
The night started out great - drinks, and lots of laughs. But within 45 minutes of arriving, I realized something. I don't have fun anymore. I can't seem to will myself to have fun. It was nice to be out - but as I sat around listening to everyone laugh, drink wine, and tell funny stories - I felt nothing. This was supposed to be one of those self-care activities, and it didn't feel fun at all. In fact it made me feel worse because I couldn't participate like everyone else was. I just wanted to go home.
It dawned on me that I can juggle everything in my life - but the price of being able to do so is steep. I am not capable of allowing myself to have fun anymore. Sure, I can achieve spurts of fun here and there. I can laugh at a good joke, and have a nice lunch or coffee with my friends, but I am not fun. This realization struck me because I used to be really fun. I was the first one to arrive, and last one to leave. Sadly, that is not me anymore.
The idea stuck with me for a few days, and I thought about it a lot. I tried to analyze the night, and come up with excuses or reasons why I felt the way I did. But it all made me fell pretty crappy.
In the end, I decided I am okay sacrificing my fun-ness for my kids. If being a bore is the way I keep them happy and healthy - it's fine with me. Motherhood is about giving your all to your children, and my all just happens to be my fun side - and that is okay with me.
