The Magic of the Lake
Panic attacks have been a part of my life as far back as I can remember. They are more prevalent during my depressive episodes, but still make the occational appearence when I'm feeling well.
Today was one of those days.
Most of the time I can trace them backwards to find a trigger.
Feeling Overwhelmed
Scared of a Situation
Claustrophobia
Wearing a mask
I've had trouble pinning today's trigger down. It's been unsettling. Frustrating.
Peanut tried to help me identify it. When we exhausted all the possibilities we could think of, they simply told me, "Do self-care."
Oh. Self-care. This thing I know is good for me, but my roll as a wife, mother, and woman in society has clashed with it on a very deep level.
The thoughts:
I should be selfless
Taking care of myself is selfish
I should never prioritize myself above anyone else. Especially my husband. Especially my kids.
If I truly love someone, I will put their needs before my own.
In the words of the wise Dr. Brené Brown: I call bullshit.
I've seen a lot of therapists. And questions that pop up regularly are:
Do you have reasons to keep living?
What are your reasons for living?
I think I have almost always answered those questions with three things.
My husband.
My kids.
My family.
Until this year, it never even occurred to me that I can and should be at the top of that list.
I am my reason for living.
I am living for me.
(And it is still hard and painful for me to say and write those things.)
That flips the scales. Selfless is no longer glorified. It is neglect. Selfish is no longer a condemnation. It is necessary for personal health.
So after I dropped Lovebug off at school, I took Peanut's advice and headed to the lake with my hammock. Stepping out of the car to the sounds and smells of nature instantly drained the weight from my chest, down through my feet into the soft grass and damp ground below.
I took several long, deep breaths of the crisp mountain air, cool and fresh, smelling of childhood memories. I strung my hammock between my two favorite trees. They are just the right distance apart, creating shade with the occasional glittering patches of sunlight. Far enough off the trail to be away from nearby hikers, perched on the side of the hill offering a great view of the lake.
Then I closed my eyes and checked in with my senses to get myself out of my head and into my body.
Touch:
The cool touch of the wind as it tickles my skin
The gentle pressure of the hammock along my back and down to my feet, holding me securely like a parent holding their baby
The warm glow from the sun on my face
My cold fingertips clinging to the book in my lap
Sound:
The leaves as they rustle, dancing with the wind
The gentle hum of voices, close enough to hear, too far away to understand
Birds chittering in the branches above me
My hammock's fabric as it sways in the wind
Taste:
Just a hint of pomegranate from my lip balm
Smell:
The earthy scent of dirt and grass, wild and plentiful
The soft fragrance of the trees, oak mingled with magnolia and eucalyptus
A hint of fabric softener from my recently washed hammock
Grounding helps me put my life in perspective. It helps me prioritize the things that are most important to me and let go of things outside of my hula hoop. It helps to simplify the day ahead of me, even if its just a little.
And self-care. I am practicing taking time for my own self-care. I want to model prioritizing my self-care for my kids. I want them to prioritize their own self-care. I want them to be healthy and know that it is ok to put their selves at the top of their list.
Let's start a conversation. Do you do self-care? What does self-care look like for you? What are some things that are keeping you from prioritizing your self-care? Drop a comment here or over at my Facebook page. Let's start some hard and meaningful conversations about mental health.