It’s often been said that those who can’t do, teach. So, let me tell you what I can’t do. Relax. I’m told that it’s genetic—I’m like my grandmother, her mother before her, and so on. I come from a long, long line… of control freaks. Being a military spouse doesn’t seem like it would be compatible with being a control freak because our whole life seems to be one big change of plans.
However, it seems that there are more of us than you’d expect. I suppose the fact that we tend to be determined, goal-driven, laser-focused, (stubborn), and so on is a benefit to our lifestyle. We are fantastic house managers, business owners, life coaches, come up with plans A-F and occasionally to Z given the circumstance, and do it with an indisputable quickness and a smile.
I used to be really go-with-the-flow, the type who always kept a change of clothes in her car in case she decided to go for a drive and see someone in the next state on a whim. I worked transient retail jobs so I could come and go as I pleased and envisioned myself a bit of a nomad. When my now-husband and I were early in our dating relationship, I called him once after a bad day at work and said “I hope you don’t have plans tonight because I’m halfway to New York City.” From Richmond.
That’s a six-hour drive on a good day.
After we got married and I had to orchestrate moves by myself, pick out a house without him, keep small children alive by myself for long periods of time, and generally having to “adult” as we call it, I became a control freak.
It has served me well, because my kids are thriving, I’m working in a job I love, it’s going pretty well, my husband has the remaining seven years of his career mapped out on a spreadsheet, and all is well.
Except for one thing. I can’t relax.
A few months ago, after a come-to-Jesus meeting with my doctor, she gave me a prescription for anxiety medicine for an “as-needed basis.” I don’t sleep, I drink way too much caffeine, and leading up to two weeks of events and work stuff coming up where I will be away from home, I found myself stress-vomiting this morning.
Let me tell you, it’s not a good look. When you are at the point in your life where reading your email literally makes you vomit. First in a parking lot, then inside a restaurant, then again in a Costco parking lot. My husband, bless his heart, was the first to figure it out.
“You vomit every time you pick up your phone. It’s not rocket science. Put the dang thing down.”
Easy, right? Wrong.
Not for me.
I see people on my friends list who do “Unplugged Sunday” and I think “But what if something happens?!”
Today, when I was trying to decompress, someone called my business line three times in a row. The first two times I sent it to voicemail, the third I answered (mind you, this is a Sunday afternoon), and she asked why it kept going to voicemail. Turns out she was calling because she wanted to correct something in an email she sent…instead of sending another email. Clearly, I have a problem with boundaries.
So here are a few tips to practice effective self care:
1. Create boundaries.
And then stick to them. If screen time is your tick, make strides to limit it. If crowds are your kryptonite, make sure to have alone time. If one particular person makes you want to climb walls just to get away, limit your contact as much as you can.
2. Find something that makes you happy.
I know some people who run, some people who bake, some people who play PokemonGo, as of late. Mine are massages, when I can get them, and naps. I nap now to make up for all the naps I refused as a child. Today, when we were driving home, my husband suggested I take a nap. I fell asleep in the car, then slept for another two hours.
When my husband was deployed, I had friends who would come to my house and take my kids into the backyard so I could nap. My mom would come up once a month so I could get a massage. Do the thing. Make time for the thing, and do the thing. Whatever it is.
3. Find friends who you can help and who can help you.
Building a community of BAMF friends is key for success in a lot of things, and sometimes that means someone who will hold your baby so you can shower—even if said baby is teething and chews on their fingers and tends to scream. Be the friend who holds the finger-eating baby for 20 minutes.
Everybody needs their village, and finding one can be a crucial part of self care, whether it’s someone to call when you need to unload or someone who can drop soup off on your doorstep when you feel like you have the black death, then understands when you don’t get the dish back for four months…because, life.
4. Rewarding small victories.
When I was adjusting to my depression meds, I sometimes had to bribe myself to get out of the house. If I could get up, put pants on, and knock out some errands, I’d buy myself a new book or a fancy coffee from Starbucks. Kind of like a chore chart for adults. Same thing with grocery shopping when my husband was gone—taking two under 2 to the grocery store can be somewhere in the seventh circle of Hell, right? So on certain days I bought the splurge item (y’all, fancy salsa can be such a treat) or cut myself a little slack when we then went home and had cereal for dinner because we were tired from grocery shopping.
So, fellow military spouses… what do you do for self-care? Little or big, I want to know! Maybe I should try it.
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