Resting for Wellbeing

I have a confession: I spent the entire weekend in bed.

Did I have a stomach upset? No.

The flu perhaps? No. 

Was I grieving the loss of something intrinsically important to me? No.

I was Resting.

I say resting with a capital ‘R’ because sometimes I think we neglect to remember just how important resting is. By being ‘in bed’ I don’t actually mean under the covers sleeping (I’m pretty good at sleeping but not that good). I was lying in late, getting up for sustenance and hygiene (the hindrance of being human at times!) and then returning to lounge further; reading and writing, planning in my journal, daydreaming, napping, catching up on a few of my favourite vloggers and discovering some interesting new blogs to read. I read the entire Sunday newspaper from start to finish including all the lift outs.

It was positively Blissful.

It had been a hectic two weeks spent running around after my 15-year-old daughter who has a condition. Last week she had an appointment –  Every. Single. Day. Whilst the logistics of this are challenging to fit into any given day, I have become quite accomplished at the art of getting from A to B to C in speedy time. What was so exhausting was the emotional strain I was under. I had been holding everything together for others and letting my self-care wilt away, much like the unwatered pot plant in the kitchen. Ahh, Monstera Tragicosa, what will become of you? 

I don’t know what it is about resting that elicits a feeling of guilt for me. I had one such moment on the second day of the Rest-In, deep into my second leg of old school Sunday newspaper reading when my older daughter came in to ask me something. I jolted with surprise and quickly positioned a textbook near me so it had looked like I had been studying all along. What on earth was that all about?!

Am I worried about letting the values of hard work and effort I have tried so hard to instill in my daughters slide? Maybe.

Will she think I am lazy? Maybe.

Will she become lazy herself? Probably not.

Will that reflect back on me as a parent? Who knows.

What is it about taking time out for yourself that makes it seem so… sneaky, so forbidden?

I started to reflect that perhaps I should be looking at it from another angle. Taking time out for self-care, rejuvenation and replenishment of one’s mind, body and spirit are crucial for wellbeing. This is exactly what I would want for her! Heading into her final year of high school I absolutely want her to have strategies and a feeling of encouragement to take time out if she needs to. Western culture has become so deeply embedded with a kind of ‘busyness glorification’ that it feels so taboo when one goes against it. To purposely knock back offers of socializing and outings in favour of staying in to process the excessive amounts of stimuli we are exposed every single day.

We all need replenishment. This is part of being human. Feeling guilty should never even come into the equation.

When my daughters were in primary school one of their teachers created a space in the corner of the classroom, shielded away from the tables and chairs. She called this the ‘Chill-ax Space’ and kids could go there to zone out, chill, and just generally process stuff. I love the concept of having a designated space solely for ‘chill-axing’ and carry that memory with me now when life is overloading my plate.

I’m off to water my Monstera..

Luna xo

 

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On Finding Home

Lately, I’ve been thinking a little bit about ‘home’, what makes up the feeling of home and what this means to me.

As a child growing up in 1980’s, ‘home’ to me was the place I came back to after school, the place where my Nanna would come to visit, the place where I would play with our dog in the backyard and the place I would spend with childhood friends during the long and seemingly endless days of summer.

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In my twenties home took on a different meaning. Home was a physical place to raise a family. There was a certain functionality to it. Home offered four walls and a front door and comfort within. Inside we were safe, my children were loved and there was always a steady supply of home cooked food to feed hungry, growing bodies. ‘Home’ during this time for me was a sanctuary, a place to retreat to after the busyness of the days spent running around after small people and their hectic schedules. Home was an escape from the outside world and all of the noise that was ever present in it.

Sliding into my forties on rather a bumpy route, the concept of home has once again shifted for me. The family home that had meant so much to me was dismantled and divided up. Possessions associated with cherished memories were released, leaving a heartbreaking void that had once been filled with love and joy. As I ponder now on the meaning of home, I find my thoughts and feelings aligning more with the feeling of home that one carries within. I think of how home can know no boundaries and it is the energy and life we put into a place that makes it home. A house is a physical structure, yet home is carried within the heart. It can be shared and expanded. Home cannot be taken away from a person when viewed this way. Home will go where I go and where ever I find myself, I will be home.

 

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I am so happy to have come to this realisation. Last year I bought myself a camper with the intent of traveling to places with my teenage daughters. Whilst used a few times for this purpose, I have found that the camper’s greatest gift to me has been the opportunity to go somewhere completely different to my daily space, on my own with only my thoughts to guide me. The greatest gift has been the sense of home when I am driving somewhere new and unexplored, the sense of the unknown stretching out on the road ahead of me and the peace that I feel as I am driving there. I am absolutely at home within myself. This is indeed an incredible feeling.

Luna xo