"Whose mask do they tell you to put on first on the airplane," my therapist asked, "children and those in need of help? or yours?...YOURS because you can't help someone else when you're dead."
She stared at me pointedly then. This was years ago, as she tried to get at the root of my desperate unhappiness, my lack of ability to think of self care as anything other than horrid selfishness, at my inability to be myself because I feared the costs too much, my inability to feel and admit my feelings. I entered that office hostile. Feet pulled up and head bowed to my knees. I wanted to wake up, live, feel and have the courage to be me, but the prospect was so daunting it was easier to keep up my walls, complete my "should do's" in life, my "obligations" and my mask. I had worked hard on that mask.
Fast forward to now. I have rocked my world and I keep rocking it. It has terrified me, awoken me, made me curious, elated me, broken me, built me and renewed me. I've dared to listen to my heart and not shut it down with "practical" words and overthinking. I've used my voice and insisted that it be heard. I've taken quiet moments unlike ever before to ask myself "what do I WANT?" I'm learning to find out who I am and feel beautiful in my own skin. A long time ago I had shut down my heart, built my walls, convinced myself I was a crazy woman whose opinions cannot be trusted. Now, I'm daring to matter. TO ME. So that I can let myself matter to others.
This may sound selfish and self centered. Some of the choices I've made have had ripples that grew into tsunamis and washed over the innocent. But I am not selfish. I'm putting on my oxygen mask because I have children now and I want them to LIVE. Not just breathe and be. LIVE. Openly, hugely, with joy and childish abandon. I want them to not build such high walls. I want them to dream big. I want them to laugh more, turn from their anxiety, try EVERYTHING, fall, cry and try again.
I actually tell my children three things daily now - "You have to do the thing you fear" and "find a treasure" and "there is always a way." DAILY. I want them to face new experiences like summer camp and making new friends with a sense of curiosity, not trepidation. I want them to look for at least one thing to be thankful for daily. And I want them to ALWAYS be looking for solution and looking ACTIVELY, not just passively waiting for answers to fall to them.
Many think I have broken a lot this past year by making the choices I have. You, reader, may think so. That I've broken my children me, friendships, etc. But as I told a precious friend not too long ago, I think of breakages as just an opportunity to take the pieces and make a beautiful mosaic of them. Sometimes shattered glass pieced together in ways no one had imagined are far more beautiful than the original object those pieces were taken from.
You know the best part? They are LISTENING. My kids are HEARING me and taking it to heart. Just this morning, as Lizzy looked down at her spilled scrambled eggs and began to stress, her brother (who used to explode at this sight) just put his hand on her shoulder and said, "don't worry about it, Mom doesn't care about messes." And when I asked him why he replied, "because they can always be cleaned up." I nodded and agreed, "we always have mops, vacuums and we can always find a solution." I could have cried with joy. He's HEARING me.
And then, when we got home today and I was preparing food to go to the pool, my children did not head for their computers, but sat on barstools to chat with me the way I used to do with my mother. William asked me, "How many people did YOU make smile today, mom? I made 5 people smile" (I had once asked him to look for his treasure by seeing how many people he could make smile or how many new names he could remember). I fought joyful tears again and said, "3 William, I made 3 smile." His counselor has even said she needs to see him less now because he is calming down so much and handling his emotions so much better.
And last week, my daughter (if you've read my blogs you know she has some sensitivities and challenges) who WILL NOT be laid backwards in gymnastics or swim classes, suddenly threw herself backward in the pool and FLOATED ON HER BACK. She did this over and over and then began kicking and swimming on her back. I stood there stunned. I had no idea what to say. Finally I sputtered, "LIZZY, you're floating and swimming on your back! That's amazing, what made you do that?" and she just looked at me matter-of-factly and said, "I was afraid of it and you said I have to do the thing I'm afraid of." I turned away and allowed myself to cry. It was HUGE. Monumental. Like my sensory-issues-plagued little girl flipping on the bars by herself in gymnastics many months ago. HUGE.
Together, we're making a lovely mosaic folks. We may shatter more pieces. We WILL stumble and mess up. But I woke up to the idea that I'm allowed to feel, to be me, to be happy and that I am NOT crazy. I put on my damn oxygen mask and decided to do the thing I was afraid of. As I see a 5 year old whose fears and sensitivities drove her to debilitating tantrums and an 8 year old whose anxiety and anger left him sullen or explosive mold into a little girl facing her fears and a little boy reminding ME to find my treasure... I am humbled, over joyed and encouraged.
What do you fear? How much of you have you buried? How much of you have you let die or numbed away? How many times have you allowed yourself to be trampled or neglected or unheard or minimized because you tell yourself it's sacrifice or unselfishness or what you are supposed to do. Folks, LOOK and you will stumble across that moment, that person, that opportunity that will shake you, wake you and leave you naked. PUT ON YOUR OXYGEN MASK. Let yourself matter. Then take the broken pieces that will inevitably lay at your feet when you finally shatter the false images you created and make the most beautiful mosaic instead.
What will yours look like? What is mine? I'm not totally sure... but it has an ocean, sunshine, calm waters, far away cabins, the sound of rain on a metal roof and a dragonfly because they live such a short life that they make the most of each moment. In all this will stand a me stronger than I ever thought I could be and two amazing kids who keep reaching, asking, laughing, building and doing they thing they are afraid of.
Put on your oxygen mask first, folks. Breathe in and out. And start living.
