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"Appreciation and self-love are the most important tools that you could ever nurture" - Abraham I want to start a revolution. The revolution will begin with me choosing to be as kind & caring to myself [or more] as I am to those around me. I recently made a wish on a cupcake. [something that happens kind of frequently these days] Or perhaps I set an intention [or hope] as I exhaled and blew out my candle, surrounded by people I adore and being held by their light, their love, their joy. My wish was to love and embrace myself with as much kindness as I do all the other people in my life. At first, I struggled to talk and write about this. I went into my head with old stories about worthiness, guilt & being selfish. I’ve been practicing intentional self-care for the past three years. It feels so amazing to have done the work to know what I need, and to claim and to honor my needs, in the midst of everyday life. Now I am ready to do what comes next, which is prioritizing kindness with myself. Teaching about this [while still learning how to do it] is what is next for me. I have been a caregiver and nurturer, in some way, shape or form, for many of my 42 years. It's part of who I am and is so ingrained in me. I love through touch, by paying attention & through my presence. I love by caregiving, mothering & nurturing those around me. I am a giving pro. In truth, the ways that I love can be exhausting. It can feel lopsided and leave me feeling resentful. Some days I wonder if there is space for my needs within all of the pieces that I am balancing. Where do I fit in? Then the realization comes that I know that my needs must take up space in the world. My needs must occupy their own sacred space. Because I hold and carry so much. Because I deserve. Because in order to show up in life in the way that I want, I must claim kindness with myself. And so I will.  As I notice how and when I am resentful, tired or overwhelmed, I begin to connect the dots. I notice that during these times, my well is quite empty. I have been focused on filling the glasses of those around me, but not my own.
And then: I remember that nourishing kindness within can come in tiny, precise action or in larger, spacious steps. I remember that I have assembled an amazing tool box of ways to take care of myself. I remember that I get to choose, even when it feels like I don't have a choice. I remember that I get to stop mid-course and change directions if I want to. I remember that using my voice is necessary. I remember that being is just as important as doing. I remember that I can ask for support. I remember that I get to ask for what I need and want at any point in time. I remember that I am human and I take a deep breath. And then I exhale. I remember that I have strategies to shut down my inner mean girl. I remember that I continue to be the author of my own beautiful life, especially in the midst of difficulty, sadness & frustration. I remember that I matter. What I know is that you are a precious gift. I believe that your needs and wishes and wants matter. You deserve to take up space. You deserve to treat yourself with kindness and respect. And what a blessing it is for you to embrace nurturing yourself in this way. Nourishing Kindness is a revolution. Want to join us? We begin on February 15th. More details here. xoox- Kristen
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"Life is a balance of holding on and letting go" - Rumi"Mom can I go ice skating?" is the most frequently asked question right now in our home. That and "Mom, what's for dinner?" She learned how to ice skate. Just like she learned how to ride a bike and ski. Marc tends to manage the sporty activities. Because I'm not sporty and he is. Or that's the story I've told myself. Maybe it's actually because she is highly tuned in to my anxiety about her learning new physical activities, and he is much more chill and flexible. Because I worry about falls and crashes and damage to body parts that already need some extra love. Or perhaps it's because I get rigid within the unknown and she senses that. On Sunday the question about skating comes and Marc is committed to watching the Patriots play football. So we do things a little differently. I pick up her friend and take them skating. I will be writing at the coffee shop a few doors down, giving them space to be thirteen, but also readily accessible in case she needs me. This is our attempted balance. The giving her roots and wings. The being near her space, but not in it. Spaciousness within security. This is how we do. We get to the ice skating rink and I'm in charge of helping her put her ice skates on. Some other friends who are already at the rink skate over to say hi. They wait, while we struggle with the skates. She makes a face at me indicating [without words] that this may not be in my skill set and that she is frustrated. Frustrated with me but still empathic and kind and psyched to be with her friends doing something that she loves. It is clear that our current attempt is not working. So we start over and she says "Mom use all your muscles" and I try. I re-lace and use a friend's magic ice skating key. Putting on ice skates is difficult. After about fifteen minutes of struggle, the skates are on. We make a plan that I will pick them up in a few hours and I walk away, down to the coffee shop in our tiny town. Side note: she crashes while skating and skiing and biking. This is part of life. The crashing, the getting up, the resuming. She picks herself up and we help her. I know logically that crashing is normal and that we learn from the falls. But it is a worry that lives in my mama heart. A worry that feels like shame and like judgment and like pain about making the wrong choice for this child, by letting her fly so freely. But we are committed to live by her mantra which is that "I just want to be a regular kid." We will follow her lead. I walk by about an hour later and stop to help re-tighten the skates. I check in on them. I am nicely waved away after I do my skate related job. There is laughter and rest with hot cocoa and popcorn and the cheesiest music on the speakers.
She is just a regular kid having fun with her friends. And I return to the coffee shop to write down these moments, so I don't forget, as she is teaching us all how to fly. xo Kristen PS: Did you like what you read? If so, sign up for my weekly newsletter http://www.kristenpdavis.com/stay-in-touch.html "When you are compassionate with yourself, you trust in your soul, which you let guide your life. Your soul knows the geography of your destiny better than you do."--John O'Donohue I recently made a wish on a cupcake. [something that happens kind of frequently these days] Or perhaps I set an intention [or hope] as I exhaled and blew out the candle, surrounded by people I adore and being held by their light, their love, their joy. Wishes and hopes and intentions are kind of intertwined for me lately. I made a wish - just for me - while embraced by magical walls, supportive souls and all the twinkle lights. My wish was that I am as kind & caring to myself [or more] than I am to those around me. At first, I struggled to claim this wish. I went into my head with old stories about worthiness, guilt & being selfish. I am actually really struggling with writing about it now, because I am anxious about how it will be perceived. Because of my own resistance to it, I know that it is powerful and that my experience needs to be shared, explored and discussed. I have been a caregiver, in some way, shape or form, for many of my 42 years. It's part of who I am and is so ingrained in me. I am the oldest sibling of four. Since I was very young, I remember wanting to be a mom. It's one of my earliest memories. I am mom to two teens now - ages 16 and 13. I am protector and mama-love guardian to many others as well. I love through touch, by paying attention & through my presence. I love by caregiving. I am a giving pro. In truth, the ways that I love can be exhausting. It can feel lopsided and leave me feeling resentful. Some days I wonder if there is space for my needs within the needs of all of the pieces that I am balancing. Where do I fit in? I remember that kindness to myself can come in tiny, precise action or in larger, spacious steps. I remember that I get to choose. I remember that I can choose to stop mid-course and change directions. I remember that I get to ask for what I need and want at any point in time. As I notice how and when I am resentful, tired or overwhelmed, I begin to connect the dots. I notice that during these times, my well is quite empty. That I have been filling the glasses of those around me, but not my own. With this awareness, I begin to choose differently. To carve out time for myself [maybe 5 minutes or maybe 2 hours, depending on the day.] Knowing that it is up to me to claim this, to create space for it and to own it as my own. By nourishing kindness for myself, I am nourishing kindness for all. And so it is. xo Kristen PS: Did you like what you read? If so, sign up for my weekly newsletter here www.kristenpdavis.com/stay-in-touch.html |
