Notes from a tired mom

It's been a tired week. I had several restless nights of minimal sleep, which led me to feeling tired, which led me to feeling cranky and trapped by the expectations placed on me-- by myself, by my family, and by others. This morning I felt down and worn thin and just kind of sad. So I called my mom and while we were talking, I realized that I am allowed to be tired. I am allowed to be tired, even if my life isn't as hectic or hard in the same ways as it has been in the past. I am allowed to be tired now, regardless of how my circumstances compare to others.

The main reason for my worn-thin feeling (aside from the attrition of a busy busy cross country season, a week of bad sleep, etc.) is that I felt unworthy of being tired, like my life is too easy to allow for such weakness-- "real" tiredness (whatever that means) is for people with bigger trials and busier lives. By thinking that I was unworthy of tiredness, (in other words, by denying the validity of my feelings), I was unwittingly ignoring my needs and my worth as a person, and it made me grumpy. Deep down I was ashamed that I felt the way I did (extra tired, discouraged, and grumpy) because my workload was so much smaller than so many others (for example, my all-star husband--head coach and teacher extraordinaire). 

Feeling shame for my real, current feelings was a heavy burden that dragged me downwards.

I'm a positive person! I have a meaningful life! I don't even have a habit of negative self talk. I regularly follow several mindful routines that encourage serenity and positivity. And yet, even with all of my prayer and scripture study and yoga and peaceful piano playing and reaching out to loved ones and sunny outdoor exercise, that poisonous barb (fiery dart!) of shame-slash-unworthiness slipped between my defenses. "Your life is so easy; you don't deserve to be tired or discouraged." Scary. Rude! 

I may not have thought that exact sentence in my head, but today I realized that I had been acting under that exact assumption all week. Yes I was tired, but because I felt guilty for being tired when I had hours of alone time every day, I kept pushing onward with chores and to-do lists instead of giving myself the physical and mental recovery that I needed. Even though I didn't take the time I needed to recover, I still somehow felt unworthy of my continued tiredness. The ridiculous, annoying, annoyed cycle continued until I called my mom.

It was the guilt/shame over my so-called "easy" life feeling hard and tiring, not my actual tiredness, that was the source of my malaise. My tiredness was from a few bad nights of sleep. As it is wont to do, the tiredness amplified the other underlying negative emotions. Grr.

Bottom line/moral of the story/mediocre epiphany of the week: I am allowed to be tired, as long as I let myself be tired and take care of myself so I can become less tired. Huh. 

We played Slamwich for family game night on Monday (think SlapJack with sandwich shaped cards). Rose won. I kept giving my cards to Amber to keep her in the game.

(Jeff was away at parent teacher conferences--we missed him as always.)