I took myself on a silent solo retreat in Hot Springs, Montana. I had an evening, 2 nights, 1 whole day, and a morning to myself. I stayed in this little inn with my own small kitchen and a claw foot tub connected to local hot spring water. It was delicious. I basically laid around doing almost nothing the whole time. It was a sleep vacation where I prioritized napping, rest, yoga, meditation, soaking in hot springs, and reading a romance novel called: How To Tame A Wild Rogue by Julie Anne Long.
The week before this vacation, I’d been solo parenting while my husband was away. By the end of this time I felt very run down, and focussed on everyone else’s needs. Taking time to myself, as a mother, can feel like a rebellious act. There are all these internalized ideas about what a mother should be, that I have to look at and unwind in order to live the life I love. There’s something about feeling worthy of taking care of myself, worthy of taking time to myself, of spending money on myself, and leaving both boys with my husband even though I know it will be challenging. There’s also a piece about feeling safe by myself again.
Before having children I went on solo adventures all the time. I traveled in Ghana, West Africa by myself as a 17-year-old and again when I was 23. I traveled all over Central and South America on my own in my early 20’s and felt stupidly brave. (I was nearly deported from Mexico but that’s a story for another time.) I loved being the “lunch boat” as a river guide, where I would row alone in the boat, with just the lunch cooler to look after. This is how I learned to row, on my own, through big scary white water with sharp volcanic rock beneath the surface, like cheese graters on your skin if you fell out or flipped the boat. I was a total badass and felt very safe in my own body.
Now as a married mother of 2, I hardly ever spend time on my own, so I have to build myself back up to it. On this trip I had a few mantras going that I would repeat to myself over and over: “I am safe” and “I am brave.” In these moments when I would notice fear start to bubble up I could also tap into my bravery. Even though I felt nervous to go out on my own, I did it anyway. I would notice the tightness in my body and then I would let my breath fill up all of me and release the fear.
Hot Springs, MT feels like a ghost town. It’s so quiet and slow that it’s like going back in time. I took myself on walks along the quiet streets and saw only deer and wild turkeys. I went out to lunch at the one cafe that has a few soups and sandwiches. Despite being nearly empty all the time, the service is still slow as mollases. Knowing this, I luxuriated in the time to myself and sat outside with my book, waiting for my hot soup to enjoy for as long as I wanted, without little sticky hands grabbing at my body.
There’s something about becoming a mother that is alarmingly all-consuming and sometimes I feel like I’m drowning, surrounded by needs, without even noticing that I’ve been swallowed up. Like the “me” that I love and recognize dissapears in order to cope with the non-stop rushing river of endless chores and drudgery.
The biggest take-away from this trip was remembering how much fun I am and how much I enjoy spending time with myself. I had forgotten. It took some time to remember. This trip included an hour and a half drive that helped me land in my body and begin breathing deeply, feeling the wide open space all around me. Upon arrival to my my cozy room I had some moments of panic, wondering if this trip would be too long, if my baby would be ok for 2 nights without me, and if it was really worth it to pump this much milk so my boobs didn’t explode. It was definitely worth it!
The first night was hard. I’d expected to fall into bed and sleep for a million hours. But my nervous system was a little jacked up in this new space and I could hear the couple in the next room having wild loud sex. Sounded like a good time! The next day I walked to the one little shop and got an all-natural sleep aid to prepare for my second night. By the afternoon I was fully in my groove of listening to my own needs. I walked when I wanted to, napped when I was tired, laid out in the sun and read my book, soaked in the tub for hours, fed myself delicious nourishing foods, and allowed myself to slip into the decadence of this gift of time I gave to myself.
As modern mothers life can feel so full and fast-paced. It can feel impossible to take time for ourselves. But it is not. It is essential to take time for ourselves. It is a radical rebellious act to take time away and admit that, “I’m not the only one who can take care of these children and run the house hold. It will not crumble and burn without me. They will be better cared for when I’m replenished and renewed. No one wants me to stay and burn out, addicted to the grind.”
I’m recognizing this pattern of what I now think of as “mom inertia.” I carried the babies, birthed the babies, and fed them from my body (I’m still feeding one). Although this gives me a certain expertise for this short time, it’s so important to share the load with my partner, my family, friends, and neighbors. It totally sucks to not have a real village where people just stop by and take the kids and cook together and raise our babies as a team. But there’s a lot of support available that we can lean into. Right now my village looks like: my husband, my parents, our local community, our amazing nanny/friend, and preschool.
There are a lot of things I would like to see change about the way our country takes care of families (or the blatant lack of care!). But the first step feels like, looking at our own internal patterns and giving ourselves time to enjoy our lives. Stepping into our power and admitting that we are worthy of time, of support, of fun, of adventure. I have often wondered why we expect so much from mothers and then I wonder why mothers expect so much from ourselves. It feels like we have been foisted up onto this fucked up enormous pedestal and many of us have internalized this pressure to “do it all” by ourselves and perfectly all the time. The first step is ditching the pedestal and burning the idea of the “perfect mother.” I am a “good enough mother.”
My value is not in how much I give to others or how perfect my cupcakes are on my kids birthdays. My value is in how much I show up to my own life, and awaken radiance and vitality in others. When I am fully engaged in my own life I invite those around me to do the same, including my children. I model for them that I am worthy of self-care, that I am worthy of rest, of support, and of pleasure.
As a recovering people-pleaser I have a ways to go in remembering to fill my own cup first. It takes practice. I want my boys to remember their mother as someone who was full of life, energy, and vitality. I can only show up in this way when I am radically in-tune with my own needs and celebrate myself daily. I have this mantra written on a post-it on my desk: “I fill my own cup first.” It feels really empowering to give this to myself and I try to give myself grace when I forget.
Please share your own wisdom! How do you take care of yourself? What does your village look like? What do you need? Let’s come together and support each other!