All parents of 2nd and 3rd graders please join the Parent Organization Thursday April 11th at 6:30 in Mary Loew's room for a quick meeting to help get ready for this year's Moving On ceremony.
Thursday, April 11, 2013
Monday, April 8, 2013
It’s O.K. to Put Yourself First...
It’s O.K. to Put Yourself First
By GLENNON MELTON
After I found out I had neurological Lyme disease, I spent two painful years attempting to recover. Since there was no end in sight, I thought a lot about how I’d change things if I ever got my life back. I considered how I would spend my energy if I were ever granted any. When I finally climbed out of bed, I decided that to the greatest extent possible, I would quit doing the things I didn’t like to do and do the things I did like to do.
Self-care is no easy undertaking in a culture that glorifies martyrdom as the wife/mommy/woman ideal and living in community as the family ideal. Deciding to take care of oneself first feels radical and dangerous, because it makes other folks uncomfortable. But an experience like mine with Lyme disease makes a woman care a lot less about what makes other people crazy and more about what makes her crazy.
In my worst Lyme years, often bed-bound, I dreamed of the ocean. The ocean calms me, as does a slow-paced lifestyle. Limited social interaction is good for me. I need other people in moderation. And no rat race, please — too much ambition makes me jumpy. Also, I love Jesus, but not church. Lately, just like marriage and parenting, church feels like not enough and too much. So for now, Sundays are for the kids, the ocean and time to think and pray. Sacred enough for me.
That’s selfish, they say. Antisocial. No neighborhood? No ambition? No church? Sacrilegious. Un-American. What about the kids? What about community?
But what about the individual? What about her? In all of those years of striving for community, I lost her. And I want her back.
To that end, we moved out of our McMansion in a D.C. suburb and into a condo in a retirement community near an island. My kids don’t have a lot of friends here, but they do have a lot of grandmas. When they’re grown, they can decide where to live. Adults are allowed to do that. We really are.
We’re also allowed to say these things, if we want to:
No, I can’t go to the PTA meeting. No, I can’t do those dishes — you’ll have to. No, I can’t travel to the destination wedding; I’m saving up for a quiet weekend away with my sister. No, no girls’ night for me — how about coffee next week, instead?
Before I got sick, I would have worried about what people would think of these refusals. Would they accept my No, I can’ts? Now, to my great relief, I see that what matters is that I accept my own No, I can’ts. Because now I see that every no is a yes to something else that fits better.
Two months ago, my husband and I separated. In the aftermath, I’ve found myself using the same survival skills that helped me through my disease. Each moment, I ask myself two questions: How can I love myself best right now? What do I need?
The answers are usually the same: I need to sweat a little, take a short nap, watch an hour of Bravo, eat some Twizzlers. Some days I need a trip to my holistic doctor, and other days it’s a stop at the Botox center. I’ve discovered that happiness is leaving yourself be — silencing the accusatory voices in your head and embracing all your contradictions.
Focusing on answering those two little questions makes waiting on the answers to the big questions (my marriage, my health) tolerable. I can’t answer the big questions anyway. But the little ones are all mine.
Since I know what I need today, I’ll be fine if my marriage comes back together. And since I know what I need today, I’ll be fine if it doesn’t. I’ll be fine if my Lyme flares up again or if it stays quiet. And my kids are O.K. because I am. They’re watching me. They are watching me survive and squeeze out joy from each day, no matter what comes.
They will learn that they do not have to take care of their mama — that their dad doesn’t even have to take care of their mama — because she’s got that covered. They do not have a martyr for a mother, so they will learn that neither parenting nor marriage requires martyrdom. They will learn that caring for oneself is one’s own privilege and responsibility, forever and ever, amen.
Thanks to my Lyme disease, I finally feel certain that I am the great love of my life. I know what my love needs, and I know how to take care of her. It’s a beautiful, lasting relationship.
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