When Healing Makes You (and Those Around You) More Uncomfortable

I’m writing this from a plane, heading out to visit one of my best friends for three nights. This kid-free trip couldn’t have come at a better time for me. As a mom, summer has typically been a challenging time, full of disruption and trying to find the balance between advocating for my priorities as a working mother who largely sets my own schedule and willingly dropping balls in order to lean into the spontaneity that summer often demands. 

I went into this summer strong, clear on what I wanted to prioritize in my own work. As a family, we had planned a chill summer consisting of two small trips and staycation activities. As the summer rolled on, we were doing ok! And then, one of my weeks of childcare got cancelled and the political landscape of our country erupted and I got strep throat for the second time in two months and construction was happening at my house, and, and, and...my mental health took a hit. 

Lately, my body has been buzzing with anxiety, carrying tightness in my shoulders and my solar plexus. My social energy has been dangerously low, and if I don’t take a sleep aid I’ve been tossing and turning, unable to calm my racing mind.

There’s a part of me that has the ability to keep dragging me through life even when every alarm in my nervous system is telling me to slow down, to say no. That part used to be stronger, used to be able to suppress signals from my body for the sake of continuing to meet the expectations of others, continuing to push through to more productivity. I honor that part’s desire to protect me by keeping me compliant. And yet...