It’s been one of those weeks where thinking one thing and doing another were at complete opposite ends.
My loveable but untamable two year old twin boys, have done everything in their power to steer me off course from finding my life’s PURPOSE this New Year. The frequency of their tantrums and impeccable ability to know just how to annoy the heck out of one another, has left me frazzled and limp.
My attempt to be organised and on-time for school drop off and pick-ups, now that my eldest has started Prep, is a feat I truly underestimated. Work for the year has resumed and I feel slightly guilty about that. More so because I have begun to eagerly anticipate my two working day week, after a weekend filled with screaming children, disgruntled husband (because of the screaming children) and housework that never seems to make any dent in the overall running of our household.
The compulsion, no… desire, to start this year with a more definitive outlook and certain quest, has inadvertently left me feeling more drained and somewhat anxious about what I want out of life. Sounds profound I know but trust me, this first week of February has been anything but profound.
We all have those mundane, menial aspects of our lives that can quietly consume us, but I wanted to think differently this year, BE different this year and figure out if I could be more than the sum of these ordinary parts.
So where to from here? Don’t get me wrong, I want to clarify that life is pretty darn sweet for me, I mean, we are all healthy, live in a democratic war-free society, have no issues managing our finances and I even indulge in the odd bowl of ice-cream in the evening, but it is when I remind myself that I have all these things and more, that I honestly feel I should, even owe it to others, to DO or BE more! But WHAT? is the question that has been following me around these past few weeks of the new year.
As a woman, it’s no revelatory idea that we inevitably skirt (no pun intended) around this question, what do I WANT to do? We are so focused on ensuring everyone else is being cared for, that we forget to or just down right don’t have time to care for ourselves. It’s innate within us.
I liken this to the vital instructions presented in a preflight presentation ‘in the event of an emergency, ensure you have the breathing apparatus fitted to yourself first, then you can help those around you’. Surely finding one’s life purpose is an emergency and this anology has found a place in my heart of late. It’s becoming more and more apparent that if I don’t find and do what makes me happy (outside of my family), then I’m really not at my best to be with my family.
I remember the joy and vitality I regained for an evening, after taking my first Yoga class, post birth of the twins. It was the first time I had done anything purely for me in over 15 months. That alone made it special, but it reminded me how important it is to truly look after ourselves.
I don’t necessarily mean health wise, although Yoga was a deliberate choice in that regard, I mean anything and everything that brings some happiness, pleasure and purpose to your ‘self’ alone.
I know I was a better person, wife and mother for taking that Yoga class that afternoon. My husband told me so and my kids did too, in their reactions to my demeanour. I was happy, they were happy. There is no greater need to BE or DO more than that.