"There are better things ahead than any we leave behind." -- C.S. Lewis
Sitting cross-legged is typically reserved for the solitude of my morning meditation and yoga. Most days, I'm standing up at a desk. So on day five of potty training Lil' Boy-Man, it was no wonder my knees were a bit stiff and achy.
In some sort of sing-song fashion, I distinctly heard the most remarkable words come from my mouth and saw an equally stunning smile come across my son's mouth in response:
"I take care of my body by doing what it asks of me . . . because I love it."
Tears welled in my eyes in surprise over the very words that I was singing.
I spent a lot of time on the bathroom floor that week, coaching and waiting--and, singing. And to be honest, I remember spending a lot of time wavering a bit with just how much I should even speak at all.
In some sort of sing-song fashion, I distinctly heard the most remarkable words come from my mouth and saw an equally stunning smile come across my son's mouth in response:
"I take care of my body by doing what it asks of me . . . because I love it."
Tears welled in my eyes in surprise over the very words that I was singing.
Back then, I struggled (immensely!) with slowing down, and being kind and gentle toward myself felt like a foreign language or seemed like an impossible talent for someone other than me.
Each day, I made it my mission to kick my own butt each morning before the world got a chance, preparing myself to fight relentless battles.
A beloved at-home yoga teacher says: "Find what feels good". The spirit of her words guided me off the mat, right there in the bathroom as I was coaching my two-year-old to listen and do what his body needed, fully knowing it wasn't what he wanted to be spending time doing.
I'd surprised myself a lot in that season. Unintentionally, I had withdrawn to care for myself through some deep grief. Without meaning to, I had disappointed two important people in my family. The loss we had experienced was about so much more than words may ever describe, and it just happened to coincide with the first time in my life that I finally decided to be truthful to myself about my needs.
I'd surprised myself a lot in that season. Unintentionally, I had withdrawn to care for myself through some deep grief. Without meaning to, I had disappointed two important people in my family. The loss we had experienced was about so much more than words may ever describe, and it just happened to coincide with the first time in my life that I finally decided to be truthful to myself about my needs.
The day had come when it was time to allow myself healthy boundaries for self-care, and to give myself the space necessary for the loosening of my roots as I reckoned with coming free from all that I had outgrown.
Shame had tried to gnaw at my shirttail and grasp ahold of my ankle in awareness of how my actions had hurt people I loved without my intention.
Never enough. Too much. Selfish.
The taunting and name-calling became my identity.
To become new in my mind and in my rhythm for life necessitated a shedding.
To become new in my mind and in my rhythm for life necessitated a shedding.
A friend told me then that molting is a necessary part of the growing process for lobsters and that they won't grow much more once their shells get hard. I could sense a similar thing was happening to me.
It took a strength beyond the stories of my mind to discover that maybe there is a truth I needed to live out. Maybe I really was under no obligation to always explain myself, even to myself.
It took a strength beyond the stories of my mind to discover that maybe there is a truth I needed to live out. Maybe I really was under no obligation to always explain myself, even to myself.
Accepting my own decisions is absolutely mission-critical to living my own life.
It's been four years since I made a choice to leave one place and give myself space to take good care of myself and safely grieve all that I lost. That day had come just as quietly and suddenly as the day it seemed right to transition Lil' Boy-Man out of his crib into a big-boy bed, and out of diapers and into big-boy underwear all in the same week. I didn't even really think much about any of it, I just did what felt like the next right thing.
It's been four years since I made a choice to leave one place and give myself space to take good care of myself and safely grieve all that I lost. That day had come just as quietly and suddenly as the day it seemed right to transition Lil' Boy-Man out of his crib into a big-boy bed, and out of diapers and into big-boy underwear all in the same week. I didn't even really think much about any of it, I just did what felt like the next right thing.
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