Last Updated On December 10, 2017

 

Say hello to friends you know And everyone you meet

 

 

December 8, 2017

Hello my twinkling lights of joy, welcome to Day Eight.

Let me set the stage. I’m in the car during witching hours (4-6pm) and I’m bone tired. I spent a great day vending with my son at two craft fairs but now I’m spent. The stresses that I consciously crammed into a box and tied up with a big red bow, in order to give my full attention to my son, are starting to unravel and re-emerge. I am cold, crampy, and have a sore throat from talking to so many humans. But for some reason, I’m in the car, oh yeah dinner, and my boy wants to purchase a few things to put the finishing touches on his gifts for the family. I don’t resent either of these duties, I want to do them, I want to do a lot of things, but I get this tired feeling and I don’t know how to attribute it. I get frustrated, why don’t I have boundless capacity for the stuff I want to do, why can’t I get over myself…

I reflected on my day. I invested hours in preparation and planning before we even stepped through the door- to what? I don’t know, I’ve never done this before. I deftly navigate my son’s social anxiety. I instruct, support, model, discuss, encourage over the span of almost eight hours. I am aware that he needs a lot of help. This doesn’t bother me but I have a sense of protectiveness because in public, I don’t like other people to be aware of it. This is burdensome energetically, to be locked-in and facilitating your kid but like warrior pose always reaching back to defend at the same time. Probably only the parents of special needs kids will understand this, and thats ok.

He is counting out coins to make purchases from other vendors and collecting gifts for his family. An activity that had become fraught with anxiety previously (the deciding, the focussing, the flexibility). He is riding high on clarity and independence which I know is often elusive for him. At the end of the sale an older woman, a fellow craft vendor that my son frequented, offered him some free ornaments and embraced him saying, “what a sweet, polite young man you are.”

I couldn’t say it better myself.

What occurred to me, upon reflection (which is important) is that getting fatigued may not be avoidable. I mean there are probably a million ways to make it better or worse but I’m not sure thats as important as how we attribute our weariness. Why are we weary? If your weary has meaning, if it is a byproduct of good loving service and reflects your priorities and gifts, then it puts a whole new spin on weariness. So be tired. Be tired for good reason. Accept your tiredness and the whole story behind your tiredness.

On this eighth day of advent, I invite you to…rest. And as your mind drifts off, reflect on all the reasons you could use some rest. Did you save someone’s ass today? Did you make someone’s day? Did you notice something everyone missed? Did you make the phone call? Did you make their favorite dish? Did you hold hands? Did you give someone a boost?

Sweet dreams.

xoxoxoxoxo

 

Last Updated On December 10, 2017

 

Say hello to friends you know And everyone you meet

 

December 8, 2017

Hello my twinkling lights of joy, welcome to Day Eight.

Let me set the stage. I’m in the car during witching hours (4-6pm) and I’m bone tired. I spent a great day vending with my son at two craft fairs but now I’m spent. The stresses that I consciously crammed into a box and tied up with a big red bow, in order to give my full attention to my son, are starting to unravel and re-emerge. I am cold, crampy, and have a sore throat from talking to so many humans. But for some reason, I’m in the car, oh yeah dinner, and my boy wants to purchase a few things to put the finishing touches on his gifts for the family. I don’t resent either of these duties, I want to do them, I want to do a lot of things, but I get this tired feeling and I don’t know how to attribute it. I get frustrated, why don’t I have boundless capacity for the stuff I want to do, why can’t I get over myself…

I reflected on my day. I invested hours in preparation and planning before we even stepped through the door- to what? I don’t know, I’ve never done this before. I deftly navigate my son’s social anxiety. I instruct, support, model, discuss, encourage over the span of almost eight hours. I am aware that he needs a lot of help. This doesn’t bother me but I have a sense of protectiveness because in public, I don’t like other people to be aware of it. This is burdensome energetically, to be locked-in and facilitating your kid but like warrior pose always reaching back to defend at the same time. Probably only the parents of special needs kids will understand this, and thats ok.

He is counting out coins to make purchases from other vendors and collecting gifts for his family. An activity that had become fraught with anxiety previously (the deciding, the focussing, the flexibility). He is riding high on clarity and independence which I know is often elusive for him. At the end of the sale an older woman, a fellow craft vendor that my son frequented, offered him some free ornaments and embraced him saying, “what a sweet, polite young man you are.”

I couldn’t say it better myself.

What occurred to me, upon reflection (which is important) is that getting fatigued may not be avoidable. I mean there are probably a million ways to make it better or worse but I’m not sure thats as important as how we attribute our weariness. Why are we weary? If your weary has meaning, if it is a byproduct of good loving service and reflects your priorities and gifts, then it puts a whole new spin on weariness. So be tired. Be tired for good reason. Accept your tiredness and the whole story behind your tiredness.

On this eighth day of advent, I invite you to…rest. And as your mind drifts off, reflect on all the reasons you could use some rest. Did you save someone’s ass today? Did you make someone’s day? Did you notice something everyone missed? Did you make the phone call? Did you make their favorite dish? Did you hold hands? Did you give someone a boost?

Sweet dreams.

xoxoxoxoxo

Last Updated On December 10, 2017

Say hello to friends you know And everyone you meet

December 8, 2017

Hello my twinkling lights of joy, welcome to Day Eight.

Let me set the stage. I’m in the car during witching hours (4-6pm) and I’m bone tired. I spent a great day vending with my son at two craft fairs but now I’m spent. The stresses that I consciously crammed into a box and tied up with a big red bow, in order to give my full attention to my son, are starting to unravel and re-emerge. I am cold, crampy, and have a sore throat from talking to so many humans. But for some reason, I’m in the car, oh yeah dinner, and my boy wants to purchase a few things to put the finishing touches on his gifts for the family. I don’t resent either of these duties, I want to do them, I want to do a lot of things, but I get this tired feeling and I don’t know how to attribute it. I get frustrated, why don’t I have boundless capacity for the stuff I want to do, why can’t I get over myself…

I reflected on my day. I invested hours in preparation and planning before we even stepped through the door- to what? I don’t know, I’ve never done this before. I deftly navigate my son’s social anxiety. I instruct, support, model, discuss, encourage over the span of almost eight hours. I am aware that he needs a lot of help. This doesn’t bother me but I have a sense of protectiveness because in public, I don’t like other people to be aware of it. This is burdensome energetically, to be locked-in and facilitating your kid but like warrior pose always reaching back to defend at the same time. Probably only the parents of special needs kids will understand this, and thats ok.

He is counting out coins to make purchases from other vendors and collecting gifts for his family. An activity that had become fraught with anxiety previously (the deciding, the focussing, the flexibility). He is riding high on clarity and independence which I know is often elusive for him. At the end of the sale an older woman, a fellow craft vendor that my son frequented, offered him some free ornaments and embraced him saying, “what a sweet, polite young man you are.”

I couldn’t say it better myself.

What occurred to me, upon reflection (which is important) is that getting fatigued may not be avoidable. I mean there are probably a million ways to make it better or worse but I’m not sure thats as important as how we attribute our weariness. Why are we weary? If your weary has meaning, if it is a byproduct of good loving service and reflects your priorities and gifts, then it puts a whole new spin on weariness. So be tired. Be tired for good reason. Accept your tiredness and the whole story behind your tiredness.

On this eighth day of advent, I invite you to…rest. And as your mind drifts off, reflect on all the reasons you could use some rest. Did you save someone’s ass today? Did you make someone’s day? Did you notice something everyone missed? Did you make the phone call? Did you make their favorite dish? Did you hold hands? Did you give someone a boost?

Sweet dreams.

xoxoxoxoxo