Finding Balance
Today I just needed to be Me. Not Mom, not Wife, and definitely not Transition Coach. I needed to take some of my own advice, put my oxygen mask on first, and slow down enough to put my thoughts into words. Self care looked like having an early morning cup of tea outside on the deck, starting a new book, and going for a walk with my family after sufficient solitude. As an introvert, I need time alone to process my thoughts - and this, like for many of us, has been hard to come by. But somewhere between the last sip of tea and the stroll through the woods, I found my way back to Me.
It’s all about finding balance.
It’s all about finding balance. The balance between work and rest. The balance between allowing myself to grieve and pressing in to positivity and hope. The balance between moving forward in this transition and wanting to put the brakes on because I’m not ready for the new. These are the thoughts that came into conscious awareness today as I processed all that had happened this week. A difficult phone call with a friend whose father lies ill in her home country while she stays here unable to travel. A trip to the grocery store where I found myself saddened by the mandatory wearing of masks. The mixed messages in the news creating confusion in already uncertain times. How are we to make sense of it all?
As I sat down to write, I found myself thinking of my youngest daughter who learned how to ride a Ripstik skateboard this weekend. She started on Friday afternoon, circling the outdoor table as she moved from chair to chair holding on for dear life. On Saturday, she started getting her balance and needed the chairs less and less. Today, as I sat outside, I watched her circle the table repeatedly (with the little wiggle required to keep herself propelling forward), hardly ever touching a chair, but knowing the support was there if she needed it, and I made a connection.
Navigating this COVID-induced transition is like nothing we’ve ever done before.
Navigating this COVID-induced transition is like nothing we’ve ever done before. Like my daughter learning a new skill, it is requiring all our effort and attention, and can at once feel scary and exhilarating as we learn new things about our abilities to cope with the challenges. Then, just as we feel we have somewhat figured out what to do and how to do it, boundaries change or we hit a bump and need to hold on to our support again - all the while knowing that the danger of falling is an ever-present risk and mastery is not guaranteed. How like life this is! Never promised to be smooth, but if faced with courage in the face of fear, like a 9-year-old learning to skate, I think we’ll be surprised by how much we grow on the journey.
And so, in the spirit of national poetry month, I leave you with two poems that came from my processing this week. As well as a challenge to get back up on your skateboard to find your balance - even if you feel weary at the thought of giving it one more try.
The Phone call (by Carolyn Grant)
Bravely the story was told fact by fact,
As though not her own, she used such tact.
It was my voice that wavered, my tears that fell,
My mind that swirled at all she would tell.
I found myself suddenly in shoes I could fill -
I grieved my own father as I heard of hers ill.
The Grocery store (by Carolyn Grant)
Tears fell today
from eyes that saw
pain behind masks,
open and raw.
Pain used to hiding
in fake friendly smiles,
now in plain sight -
but still without voice.