Taking time to be kind
I have very recently realized that up to this point I hadn't written once - not one time - the whole month of February. Every time I've logged my daily habits on my bullet journal this month, the blank space next to "write" led to a painful pang of guilt, which was subsequently forgotten due to a crying baby or a dirty pile of clothes.
I still somehow find the time to read a lot, though, and since my pregnancy I've devoured almost every article on so-called "mommy blogs" (such as Pregnant Chicken and Scary Mommy, to name a couple). A recurring theme seems to be the busyness of motherhood and the heaviness of a mother's (or main caregiver's) mental load; or how one can go about doing "stuff" all day long without seemingly adding up to anything, feeling absolutely drained by the time baby's in bed. Washing bottles, burping baby, changing diapers - you name it. It's an ongoing loop in which I am currently stuck, and find myself sometimes guiltily eager to get out.
This past weekend I got a chance to break the routine, and I ran with it. For my parents' birthday (they were born the same day, years apart) we went on a weekend trip to Innsbruck, Austria. We spent a wonderful time together, happy and healthy with the beautiful Austrian mountains as the most magnificent backdrop. I am always grateful for every minute I get to spend with my family. And yet...
The planning it took and the anxiety generated from organizing every single thing the baby could possibly need during those 48 hours left me with a migraine for days.
I haven't gone to the gym in almost two weeks, though I've been eating like a pig, which truly affects my self-esteem.
My hands are so dry from the baby bottle detergent, the skin has started to crack and it hurts (no matter how much moisturizer I apply).
I miss being creatively productive, and being tickled intellectually.
My home is a mess, which is a daily visual assault against my usually uber-organized self.
My whole body hurts from the cold and the numerous layers I have to wear just to go around the corner to buy some formula.
Although I know I am doing my best, I too often feel like it's not nearly enough.
I often want to quit, to disappear, to fade away. It sometimes feels like it's just too much. But this overwhelming anxiety isn't new to me, and by now I've learned to take deep breaths and count my blessings, until I'm ready to go on with my day.
But you wouldn't know any of this from social media.
Which brings me back to this trip to Innsbruck. The first night, my husband and I decided to leave S with the grandparents for an hour or so in order to catch up solo over a drink or two. My place of choice was the Hard Rock Café, because I could truly use a giant plate of nachos followed by an outrageously large margarita. Plus it brings both of us sweet memories whenever they play Blink 182 or New Found Glory, so the choice was really a no-brainer.
By the entrance, they had a metal sign which read "take time to be kind". I hadn't stepped into a Hard Rock Café for over a decade and couldn't recall if this was a "thing", but I found it awfully cheesy at the moment. Cute, but cheesy, and maybe a bit out of place? Anyways, on to nachos!
But now, being back to the daily grind, to the overeating to compensate for the fatigue, to the piles of dirty clothes and to the messy apartment, that phrase keeps coming back to me. Being kind to my son is second nature and unquestionable, but I can still use the reminder. I choose to interpret it as a sign. In the sea of never-ending stuff to do and to feel guilt about, I am claiming some time to be kind to myself.
Starting with this post.
PS: There is a fantastic Instagram account titled @postpartumstress which I follow and highly recommend to anyone whose anxiety is as bad as mine. Their super relatable material has made me feel less alone on numerous occasions.
Photo credit: Carolina Goetz
