Asking for it
As I held my daughter’s hand in the backseat of my parents’ car I realized something: I love being a mother most when someone else is also taking care of me.
A revelation that may not seem that revolutionary to some but to me it felt like a warm wave trickling down my body; whether it was peace or something else I do not know.
Today I am not driving, deciding where to go when, or trying to coordinate meal times.
Today I am responsible for my daughter but even that is not a sole responsibility because my parents are lovingly sharing their time and attention with us.
I am, as the free birds say, “along for the ride.”
Why is this a pivotal moment for me to document?
The other day I was crying in the grocery store parking lot feeling completely at the end of my rope. Honestly, I was having a good ole tantrum about how I felt like everyone’s personal assistant. “Who is taking care of me??”
But am I asking for help?
Am I *actually* trying to set healthy boundaries about what I can or cannot do with my limited energy?
The answer was “no.”
I do not ask for people to set their own calendar reminders or buy their own groceries or set their own alarms to wake up or establish that I need to work in a quieter space or say no to people sharing negativity etc etc etc...
I just bury it.
“Just”... I bury it. There is no need to rearrange my own words to make the reality more accommodating for you. Yet here I am.
May God grant me the ability to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference. Amen.