If rest were a competitive sport, mothers would be the Detroit Lions of resting. Even when we get our children into a state of rest, it’s rarely if ever so we can rest ourselves. We work ourselves into a lather about the future when we’ve run out of present to plan and past upon which to ruminate. Where then, does that leave us?
Envious – of other moms who seem to have their stuff together so much better than we do
Self-Defeating – we cannot be at our best unless we are rested, and until we learn to quiet our minds, we will not find rest
Seeking – once a friend told me that I would find happiness when I stopped chasing it, I didn’t at the time know it was a quote (Gahndi? Buddha? I don’t know who?) but one day it hit me upside the head that she was right, I had – unconsciously – stopped chasing and started being
Cheating – not the adultery kind that’s verboten in Leviticus et al, but the kind that catches up with moms when they’re facing an empty nest and realize that they’ve just spent the past 18+ years so embroiled in their offsprings’ realities that there’s nothing but a shell of an adult life left for herself to rest within; when we fail to rest, we fail ourselves – we fail our past, our heritage, our present, our contemporaries, our future, our emblematic selves as women
Uncomfortable – because rest necessitates an ability to be comfortable with one’s self in an intimate way that being alone with others does not, we must first accept ourselves – flaws and all – and make peace with being who what how when where why we are
Ponderous – not the self-directed wandering of a path of our own, but plodding heavy footed.