The Day I Realized I had Cracked

The self-care imperative of parenthood

Last year, sitting on the train, staring out the window, I listened to Rachel Hollis’ Girl Stop Apologizing on audible. She was talking about the importance of self-care and before I knew it my view of the majestic Hudson river palisades was blurred by tears.

I’m an easy crier, but motivational audibles don’t usually start the waterworks. In that moment, however, I had been separated from my family for about 3 hours- enough time that the initial giddiness of being able to read a magazine uninterrupted, snack on whatever I wanted to and just wander at will without small people at my heals had worn off a bit and some of the self-doubt and mommy guilt was starting to roll in.

I was on my way to a solo retreat for 3 days. I was going to read, practice yoga, go on long solo runs, eat nourishing meals, sleep for 8+ consecutive hours, get massages and journal. I had never done anything like this and I have never spent so long away from my kids outside of a few work trips. But this wasn’t work- this was purely personal and purely with the hope of refueling me after a grueling winter.

As the train pulled farther and farther away from Philadelphia I began to feel more and more guilty- guilty that my husband was carrying the load, guilty that my kids were going to be without their mama and guilty that I was not doing all the things I usually do.

That’s why Rachel Hollis’ metaphor for self-care was so powerful and magically timed right then. She was talking about how we are all glass vases. We fill our vase with our love, passion, kindness, excitement, energy, and understanding. We want to share all that goodness with those we love. So we tip our vases a little to spill over onto our kids. We tip and wobble and spill a little more with our partners. Then we tip some more to spill over onto our parents, siblings, friends, and other loved ones. The problem is that the more we tip, the less we have in our vase and the farther over we have to tip to spill some over. Eventually, we fall over completely and because we are a delicate and precious vase, we are likely to crack, splinter or even shatter when we fall.

That’s what prompted this trip. I felt like I had tipped my vase over and over and over without refilling it and I had fallen enough times to start to show some cracks. I was cranky. I was yelling at my kids. I was not being very nice to my husband and I was probably not giving my client’s my best either. I felt bad. I was tired and drained and hated the way I was behaving but felt powerless to stop. I kept trying to give but coming up empty and it was causing me to feel resentful and cold.

I spent the first 24 hours of my retreat silent. I turned away from the communal tables and brought my kindle to read during meals. I didn’t join any of the group classes or activities. I read, I slept, I kayaked, I hiked and I ran- all on my own. By midday on the second day, I start to feel filled enough that I started to look up and join in. I talked with the person sitting next to me at dinner, I joined a group class on play and participated in a restorative yoga class by the river. I started to feel my soul fill and open again and I felt myself return to who I want to show up to the world as.

When I got home I was ecstatic to see my kids. I wrapped them in my arms and held them tight. I kissed my husband gratefully and I enthusiastically rejoined my family life and responsibilities. When I was asked to read Good Night, Good Night Construction Site for the 5th time that night, I did so happily without even skipping a single truck and when my kids broke into a fight over who got to play with the yellow truck the next day, I didn’t yell, I didn’t argue, I didn’t even sigh heavily. I was able to kneel beside them, connect with them and help them work it out for themselves.

The weekend allowed me to fill my vase. It filled it so much that it was overflowing and I couldn’t help but spill it over onto my family and friends. I didn’t have to tilt, bend or wobble- I could stand strong and still share that which fills me with those that I most want to share with. But, I knew that feeling wouldn’t last and I certainly can’t take a 3 day retreat every time I need a little fuel. So soon after my trip, I sat down and made a plan. What was I going to need in order to continually refill me enough that I could continuously overflow? I’ve played around with a couple different strategies/ activities and schedules but it usually includes a combination of exercise, date nights, dinners with friends, baths, reading, and creative passions). And I have learned to ask myself regularly- have I filled enough? How am I behaving toward the people in my life? Am I able to share generously or is it taking effort? If it takes effort- even if it’s not a Herculean amount, I know that I need to attend to my own passions to fill back up so that I can start to spill over.

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