What You're Missing

By Amie May

My children have been back to school for a few weeks now, and we're settling into the “old routine.” Not!
 
Routine? Are you kidding? I like the idea of a routine. Routines are predictable and safe. It means that supper is always on time, that bedtime isn't a mad dash, and that mornings aren't flying by on a wing and a prayer.
 
Here in the world of real life, the school computer breaks down, the library we need to finish the homework project is closed, we have no money for an ink cartridge for our home computer, and my son’s project involves having a million (okay, twelve) pictures printed up by tomorrow. To top it all off, this running around means supper will be late. Supper now being a pressing issue since my nine year old daughter is grumbling, “Mom, I’m starving to death!”

For a passing minute I wonder if this is how God feels in relation to dealing with our problems. Then I remember that God is much more empathetic than I. After all, my son is probably experiencing his share of angst at the prospect of not finishing his homework, and my daughter is hungry. I know how it feels to have the tummy rumbling and no food in sight. It's not fun.

Since they began kindergarten, I’ve always had bittersweet feelings about my children going off to school. On one hand, I miss them at school. On the other hand, I miss the quiet when they’re at home.

Two days ago I heard an “expert” say that good parents always put the needs of their children before their own desires. Maybe even intuitively we feel it is a parent's job to tend to the needs of their children. But I wonder how true that really is.

I used to live that way. Tending the needs of my family seemed fulfilling enough. Once, a friend told me how important carving out some time for herself was. She said, "You don't know what you're missing." At the time, I dismissed her suggestion. I thought, “I’m handling everything without having some special time to myself.” Now, after several years and a lot of tension, I see that she was right. I didn't know what I was missing.

At first I told myself, "Oh how terrible, to look forward to spending some time away from your children like it was a holiday." As it turns out, I completely misunderstood her.   By focusing exclusively on my children, I was missing myself. And in missing myself, I diminished my relationship with my children.
 
When I began to process my choice of not addressing my own needs, I realized that my unwillingness to create time for myself was grounded in my own guilt more than my desire to be with my children. I just assumed that being a “good mom” meant never excluding my children. So, I felt guilty at even considering the idea of enjoying a large bowl of ice cream while the kids were in school. My guilt ran so deep that when I came down with a high fever I actually felt guilty for sleeping instead of tending to my family. It all felt so...selfish.

Maybe it was the fever, but for a minute I thought that I heard my mother's voice. She always seemed to hold down an impeccable routine. She accomplished all of her scheduled tasks either on time or early. To consider pausing to savor a slice of chocolate cake was taboo in our household. Of course we enjoyed moments of relaxation. It’s just that they were always planned. A time would be set to sit and eat the cake, accompanied with a heavy dose of justification. “We can’t let it go to waste.” Eating just for the sheer pleasure would have brought about a heaping does of self abuse. “You don't deserve to be eating this cake. You're fat. You haven't gotten off your derriere in days.”

Often, I found myself at the end of her pointing finger being scolded for selfishness. Regularly she lectured me about what she thought it means to be selfish. She told me I never considered how my actions and longings affected other people, and especially her.
 
My own upbringing enabled me to live a life of self sacrifice while unconsciously considering it the most proper way of life. I never imagined the possibility of investing in myself in order to benefit my relationships with others. Occasionally I’d go out for coffee with a friend, but I never initiated the action. I’d wait until I was invited, otherwise I’d feel too guilty to go out. At times I felt flawed for even sleeping, until I actually collapsed from exhaustion. I couldn’t recognize my tiredness, and the idea of resting was guilt inspiring -- unless I could find some sort of rationalization or justification, like utter fatigue.

My view of Jesus contributed to my wrestling matches with guilt. Jesus sacrificed his life. Certainly he was tired, especially on the cross. So, who was I to struggle emotionally with fatigue?
 
My husband and children have always been so encouraging. Last Christmas they bought me bath goodies so I could escape into the tub. At first, the idea of "escape" triggered all of the old messages of guilt to play in my mind. “Escape” meant (I thought as a child) abandonment. Now I see that my family’s love for me caused them to give me the gift of a bubble bath escape, and never for a minute will they have doubted my love for them by my enjoying that gift. The encouragement and support of my husband helped me to feel comfortable enough to ask for rest when I need it – even when it entails his taking some of the tasks which I would normally do. I love my family.

I know that I'm not alone in experiencing guilt at the prospect of fostering my own life. I realize that some moms (and dads) would love to have a momentary vacation from their family, yet they wrestle with the idea of being a "bad mom" for even thinking they need some time to themselves. One incident caused me to see that spending time on myself was not selfish. In fact, it makes me a better mom.
 
Not long ago I stepped completely out of “family time” and into “me time.” It helped me understand that “me time” was part of “family time” because I am part of the family. I saw this when I flew to another state to meet some dear friends. The first thing they did was take me out to eat at a place that I would normally not visit without my children (the guilt thing). But I ate, laughed, and enjoyed both the company and the food.

At dinner, we talked about the importance of addressing our personal condition and how it relates to the people around us. One friend reminded me of the instructions recited by the flight attendant before take off. “In case of an emergency, first put the oxygen mask over your own nose and mouth, and then help those around you.” I hadn't ever considered this as anything more than an unlikely emergency procedure.

During those three days, I reflected on the oxygen mask statement, and I felt refreshed in just a short time. On the return flight, I listened to the flight instructions in a new light. When I returned home, I noticed how my family and I appreciated each others' presence just a little more. I had more energy to contribute, even though I had been gone for only a weekend.

Now any time that I am tired or want to recharge (that is how it feels, that is "what I was missing"), I do not feel guilty. Caring for me is caring for my family. I had been missing me in my family, and so were they. Without me investing in myself, they're left with a tired, sleepy, sick mother and wife.

Jesus said, "Whoever seeks to save his life, he will lose it. And whoever will lose it, he will preserve it." By ignoring myself, I sought to save my life. I sought to live up to how I was taught that things should be – to live up to a law. Not meeting that standard meant failure and guilt, so living up to it was all about self preservation. Selfishly attempting to achieve my false notions of a “perfect mom” stopped me from growing. I couldn’t contribute to my family to the fullest. I felt like a zombie, one of the walking dead. When I finally chose to stop that “self preservation,” to stop seeking my life, my life was saved.

I’ve learned the importance of taking five and doing something I love. Maybe you feel guilty for even considering it. But put your feet up, go for a walk, laugh with a friend. You'll see. You will find yourself finding yourself, and your family will be happy to know you. It's a marvelous investment...you're a marvelous investment.
 
Jesus’ sacrifice isn't validation for self neglect. In fact his sacrifice supplies our need so that we don’t have to neglect ourselves.

I still have some bittersweet feelings as I drop my children off at school in the mornings. Their voices and presence is precious to me, and my time to reflect and “be me” remains important to me as well. The issue used to be: Me or Them? Now I see I’ve chosen us both.

It's late now and the pillow calls. The alarm is set, and another mad dash will begin in just a few short hours. Such is the wonderful life I adore.