Permission to Hit the Pause Button
Sitting in my apartment I can hear the muffled noises of a large group of people. It might be the restaurant downstairs. It’s not something I usually hear. It’s barely audible but it’s there. My building is very old and has amazingly thick walls. I don’t usually hear anything. Maybe it’s an anomaly. Maybe I heard it because I’ve spent all day at home today. Inside. I jammed my left pinkie toe into one of the legs of my living room chaise last night. It’s pretty swollen and a little purple at the bottom. I’m staying off of it today to give it a chance to recover. I talked to a few people on the phone, cooked and ate good food, and did a tiny bit of personal paperwork, but mostly I binged an old TV series. I played hooky. I wasn’t completely sure what I was playing hooky at first. As the day progressed I realized that I wanted a break from being responsible, for anything. I’m trying to get my 92-year old mom approved for medicaid care for her dementia and we’re waiting for a bed in different facility. That feels heavy today. It really isn’t. It will turn out however it turns out and I’ll continue to make one decision at a time. Much of the weight of that situation is actually comprised of the weight leftover from childhood things that revolve around my mother. I know this. I’ve done a lot of processing about these things. For years. I’m probably connected in a better way to my mother right now than I’ve ever been. I moved recently and adore where I’m living. I have kind friends and some people who not only love me but get me. I’m super lucky. Did I mention I’m grateful? Not least of all for the amazing relationship I have with my adult son. But even when you’re lucky, even when you’re grateful, there are times when you need to hit the pause button, times when you need to not be needed by anyone. When even you need to take a break from expecting things from yourself, whatever those things might be. I’ve always found a way to do this. It’s just that now I finally don’t feel guilty when I do
