This morning, as I was crawling back into bed at 4 am after
nursing baby E, I felt a sharp pain in the middle of my chest. I lay still and prayed that it would
go away, that it was a muscle spasm brought on by anxiety and/or a strange
position during the most recent nursing session. I willed it away because I’m
only 42 and can’t imagine not being around for my baby and preschooler. I begged and pleaded with God to keep me safe and alive and healthy.
It seems to have gone away and I think it must have been a
muscle spasm. While laying there, I renewed my commitment to making a doctor’s
appointment for a check up. I’ve been between doctors for about two years now—my
old, favorite, primary care doctor is in the city and I have no time to get
there these days (and I have yet to find a new, hopefully wonderful, doctor in
the ‘burbs near us).
It’s part of a theme I’m pursuing these days in which I am committed
to taking care of myself in as many ways as possible. I went running on Sunday
with our new (to us—thank you Craigs.list) double jogging stroller. I’m not
buying mass produced cookies and am instead indulging my cravings for dessert with
one or two squares of dark chocolate. I’m turning off the TV to read whenever
possible. I’m trying to look at myself in the mirror with kindness, the way I would
look at someone I love and respect. I’m considering getting off the
diet-coke-train that I’m on. (Hey, I know I should just get off right now, but
I have an incredibly addictive personality and I can’t imagine giving up my 20
oz of the bitter drink every morning. I’ll get there eventually.)
This—my commitment to myself—may be the biggest and most important
commitment in my world. Yes, my relationship with my husband is an important commitment.
And of course, my commitment to care for my kids is vitally important—they’re
my heart and soul living and breathing outside of my own body. I cherish these
family commitments with everything I have and am. But all of these other
commitments fall apart if I don’t keep a strong and centered commitment to
myself. If I don’t care for myself, I’m not caring for anyone. I remember this,
oh, some of the time, and my goal is to simply remember it and practice it even
more often. It’s not selfish to care for yourself so that you can care for
others. In fact, I wish more people practiced it (Mom, even though you don’t
know this blog exists, I’m looking at you, here!).
I think I’ve found a doctor—a small practice connected to a
bigger practice in my little suburban town. I’m going to call today and make an
appointment, and I’ll definitely mention the muscle spasm and the other various
and sundry physical complaints of middle age that I’m experiencing. I'm really enjoying this life, these days, and have no intention of compromising it any longer by not caring for myself.
What are you doing to care for yourself today? How are you
keeping your commitments?
