GRACE!

 

I have this new mantra I've been obsessively repeating:

"Just give yourself some grace."

It's a gentler, more-forgiving way to permit myself to let things slide.  The alternative, of course, is the mantra I've had for the last few years:

"I give exactly Zero F*cks."  

 It's a valid mantra, but one with angry undertones; I thought it was time to switch things up a bit.

I've been feeling very fragile lately, so I like repeating my new, soft mantra to myself because it seems a better-fit for a fragile person.  And I am nothing if not a slave to themes.  My new mantra allows me to sigh wearily to myself when the chores pile up, and then apply some of those big buzz-words of the moment, like "self-care" and "taking a mental-health break".  So, instead of doing the dishes, I give myself some grace and go watch TV instead.

I'm just blowing through all the home reno shows on Hulu. 

I've been using my new mantra so much, however, that I find myself shortening it for expediency.  For instance: this morning, after watering the plants, I just mentally screeched "GRACE!", and dropped the hose -- totally un-rolled, strung all across the patio -- and went back into the house.  

I must admit, the efficacy of a gentle mantra is a little diluted once you start screaming it at yourself.

I try to rally, but it takes a lot of effort to want to do anything outside of the house.  Little errands I used to run hold no appeal anymore.  I dread the grocery store.  I'd rather surf the 'net than go to a barbecue at a neighbor's.  My home has always been my happy place, but lately it also feels like my only safe place.

This is tough for Bee, who is not an Outgoing Introvert, and who wants to get out and do things with his wife.  Or just have her show a little emotion every once in awhile.

I just don't like people these days: I fear we're all looking out for ourselves and not considering society as a whole or how we could be better members of it.  And yes: I feel guilty for judging people who may just have different priorities or comfort-levels than do I.  But -- as someone who volunteers a lot of my time and resources for other people -- I would feel better if I felt like others were thinking about me as much as I'm thinking about them.  

Bee thinks I purposely make life harder on myself, anyway.  "You know," he reminded me the other day, "no one asked you to be involved in so many things."

But I've always felt I'm not a member of the world unless I'm giving back to it somehow.  And, since I'm self-employed, I can arrange my schedule to do what people working 9-5 can't.  So I pick groups/tasks that I think are important, then I throw myself whole-heartedly into them.  The problem is that right now I have SIX such groups for whom I actively volunteer . . . and something's gotta give.

Bee is trying very hard to hide his glee that what's probably going to give first is Cub Scouts.  Although Mr. C is long gone from the Pack, I stayed on as Cubmaster because it was fun to plan once-a-month meetings with a THEME, and I got to use my organizational skills.  Bee never understood my fascination with this, or the time and energy I spent doing it. 

At any rate, I think the fun has run its course.  Plus I just keep focusing on my failures with every meeting instead of my triumphs.  And I rarely get thanked for all the work I put in.  And did I mention that I DON'T EVEN HAVE A KID IN THIS PACK ANYMORE, and someone else with skin in the game needs to step up??

So I've told our Pack's Committee Chair that this is probably my last year.  I'm getting notes written and protocols in place, but I'm so far gone that I don't even care that no one else has shown any interest in taking over.  (Not to toot my own horn or anything, but our Pack is the largest in the area right now, thanks in no small part to my amazing organizational skills [not that anyone's recognized that] . . . and I'm curious to see if it remains that way after I leave.)

But hey: GRACE.

Grace also means I'm focusing more on what makes me happy:

One of my favorite volunteer activities is fostering kittens for the Humane Society.  But it's been a rough year of it so far: Bee is very sensitive to cat / litter box smells, and then all the kittens I've gotten so far this year haven't been easy.  By "easy", I mean:

• are eating normally and gaining weight,
  
• don't require a 22-mile round-trip to the vet because something's funny with their butt,

 and/or

• only poop in their litterbox.  
• Not on the hallway rug.
• Not in the living room planter.
• Not behind the spare bed.

When Bee already isn't happy about cats invading his home, I can't just mentally yell "GRACE!" and ignore hosing out three litterboxes as soon as they're messy.  So I'm always on edge, but the house still smells, and Bee is frustrated with both my harried attitude and the state of his home.

After our last challenging kittens (who spent most of their time either cowering in a cupboard or pooping on the couch), I knew I should give Bee a break from kitties in the home.  But, as I was returning those kittens to be adopted, I saw the little girl pictured above.  As much as I knew Bee needed a break, I also knew I Needed Some Grace.  So I brought her back home with me.

Even though she's still in quarantine in our bathroom, I love the time I take to go in and sit with her.  She bounces around and attacks any toys and purrs when I pick her up and she's got the cutest little fat belly.  And when she gets down from my lap, she doesn't just jump: she flings herself, Superman-style, out and about a foot away.

I've named her Geronimo.

everything she does is precious

 

When her quarantine's done, I can only hope she'll still go back to use the litterbox if I give her access to the spare bedroom.

Another way I am giving myself grace: prioritizing "self-care".  I bought a used light therapy mask a few days ago, and have been highly-enjoying freaking out the family:

first picture on this blog that doesn't require face-blurring!

Here I am cooking risotto whilst giving myself a 20-minute facial.  Not the easiest of tasks, but -- by God -- I'm going to look fabulous as a result. (I mean, I already do, right?)

I am also doing my best to show myself grace by focusing on the positives in my life, and I'm working hard to acknowledge any little thing I have to be proud of.   My most-recent point of pride: Mr. C just completed a 50-mile backpacking trip with his Scout Troop.  Or, more-accurately, some of his Scout Troop: of the 11 folks who signed up to go, 4 were able to finish.  Of those 4, two were kids.  Of those kids, one was mine.

and then there were none

 

Usually, when Mr. C returns from campouts, he is exhausted and just wants to shower and go hide in his room for a few hours to decompress.  But this time, after 5 days away, he wanted to stay by me on the couch and go through his hiking log, day by day, to tell me about each leg of the journey.  It was hot, and it was 10 miles a day with a 28-pound backpack, but they climbed mountains and wandered through forests and camped by lakes and did something he'd probably never otherwise have had the opportunity to do.  And -- although he assured us that there was no way Bee or I could have made it -- Mr. C had no problems getting it done.  

He is very proud of himself, as are we.

Grace.