selfcare | (Un)Diagnosed and still okay

There are 24 hours in a day, I recently did some math and realized that I am awake for 18 of those hours. Doing a quick debrief of a recent workday, I realized that I spend about 11 hours of that day either commuting to/from work, actually working at the office and then following up at home with employees, customers, answering emails and or phone calls.

During the week, another chunk of my time is spent caring for Bridget. When I deducted the times before and after school, Bridget during the week takes about 5 hours of my time. Not dedicated 5 hours, I am not her 1:1. But during those 5 hours, between getting on/off the van and out of/into bed, Bridget is the priority.

Now a lot of these hours overlap. For example, in the last hour I have showered Bridget, made her dinner, answered 5 texts from work and an “urgent” phone call (that was not that urgent.

Yet even if I said these hours spent between just work and Bridget were concurrent, that still leaves 3 hours left in the day.

And yet I, like many working parents, feel that there is no time left for “me”. We have sold ourselves this bad mantra where we have to be taking care of everyone all the time. We feel guilty sitting on the couch eating bon bons, even though we have already put in a full day and it might only be 4pm.

We parents are up in the middle of the night, when our child cries out. Even if they do not really awaken. Even though Bridget is 16yo, I think the last night I did not awaken (even briefly) to a sound from her bedroom since she was born. This is not because Bridget is not neuro typical. This is something all parents face, especially when they are waiting for their teen to get home and hoping it is before curfew.

I am not someone who has to have the cleanliest house in town. After a long day, I refuse to company clean or even do laundry. But I find other ways to fill that time between Bridget going to bed and getting out of it the next morning.

And not one of those things include self-care.

A friend of mine recently said that anyone can be physically fit, they just have to commit to themselves. They have to put exercise on the schedule on the calendar and make it non-negotiable. It could be a 30-minute walk, a yoga class or a cross-fit hour of torture. The way to success is to make exercise as important as getting your child on the bus every morning. No one, after all, wants to get up and go to the bus stop at the ass-crack of dawn, making sure their child goes to school. In this example, if you want to become more active and fit, make it as important as getting your child to school.

It does not have to be exercise; it could be setting a goal of learning a musical instrument or learning to play chess.

My friend’s point was this: find something that engages you and make it a commitment.

This conversation got me thinking, because of course I immediately thought I don’t have time to do (insert whatever I am avoiding here). There is no time left in my day! I then had that rare moment of self-awareness, where I realized it is just as easy to make an excuse as it is to make a commitment.

Thinking back, I have made the effort and commitment to things that mattered. For example, being an elected member of our local school committee. The schools were important to me, so I found the time to commit. I considered it a second, albeit unpaid, job. I put the time in and was rewarded personally, when I saw this work mattered not just to me but to those I served.

So why am I not putting the time into me?

I think this is something every parent suffers from. We have this feeling that we are selfish, or that the children matter or our spouse needs us to do something important or work is calling. It is not purposeful, it is just we blinked and not only has the day gone by, but it was just March yesterday and now we are having people for Thanksgiving. Where did summer go? The days pass by so quickly, we forget those minutes and hours that are lost if we don’t pay attention.

I have decided to build on this idea that by finding one hour a day to keep my mind and body active, it will become easier to maintain the commitment. It will just become a part of my day. Just as putting Bridget on the van every morning is a part of the routine.

I also know that this hour does not have to be a full hour dedicated to Kerri. It can be in 15-minute increments. As simple as taking a 15-minute walk in the morning and repeating it at night. Some days it might be a full hour of writing, to keep my mind engaged and my pessimism in check. Just as every hour is really multi-tasking, a hybrid between work, Bridget, household chores and being a wife, this “hour” I am carving out for myself will not be etched in stone, but fluid. Until I create the routine I so desperately need.

Today was day one. I carved one hour of my 18 hours to give, to walk and write.

I did not blink and lose an hour, I found one.

And I promise, to myself, to find another hour tomorrow.

The beach is my happy place.

It is not Bridget’s. Yes, I can get her there, but she wants to leave as soon as possible. Between this trait and her not enjoying M&Ms, I sometimes question if she is really my child.

Then she cracks a sarcastic one-liner, and yup there is the proof!

With everything going on lately, some have asked how I keep a positive attitude (full disclosure, it is not always sunshine and glitter over here) and/or I hear “I don’t know how you do it”.

Here is the thing, I don’t have a choice. I rechecked the hospital records and there is not only a non-return policy, but apparently children also don’t come with warranties. This may have been helpful information prior to deciding to have children. It’s like a super-secret detail no one tells you when you are young and want to start a family.

My advice to anyone who is overwhelmed by whatever crisis their child is facing is to find small snippets of “me time”. I know, it is not easy. It’s not like you can just escape for a weekend getaway with your spouse. You can’t afford to even go to dinner because it will cost you not only the cost of dinner, but at least $100 in childcare costs if you are gone more than a few hours. That is even if you can find someone you trust to care for your child. We do not qualify for respite care (well, Bridget qualified for 1.25 hours per week–not worth the paperwork!).

The times I miss my eldest child the most is when I want to run to the grocery store and it’s raining. Kidding, I miss her all the time! But those moments that I took for granted when she was here and I could go for a walk with my husband are probably when I realize how lucky we were when she lived at home.

This is how I carve out a few minutes each week (I wish each day!) to just refresh and check out for bit.

When the pharmacy says Bridget’s prescription will be ready in about an hour, I send this text to my husband:

When driving home from work, I take the long way. I added 15 minutes to my commute. I listen to a podcast or the radio. Sometimes rapping along to Enimem if you are ever next to me in traffic, don’t judge my throwing hands. Sometimes rocking out to Adele or Toby Keith. I take those extra 15 minutes to transition from “work Kerri” to “mom Kerri”.

On the nights my husband works, I put Bridget to bed at 7p and watch the Real Trashwives and realize while yes, this life is difficult, it is not as dramatic as whatever crisis a Trashwife is facing this episode.

I put my earbuds in to drown out the sound of whatever video snippet Bridget is watching on repeat as I escape into a book.

I sleep in on the weekends. I get up at 6am, give Bridget her medication and then escape back to bed until 9am. Yes, I can hear her on the monitor on those mornings she does not go back to sleep. But I am not up and facing whatever she going to challenge me on today.

These are all small moments, I know. I know my typical friends with typical children try to understand when Bridget has to attend whatever they have invited me to. They also understand that when I say I cannot attend. There are days I really wish that Bridget was the typical 16-year-old, that my husband and I could escape for a weekend to remember why we’ve been together almost 30 years. That I didn’t have to bow out of invites or have my sidekick with me.

Thankfully those moments don’t happen too often. Because after I take the long way home, this beautiful girl is waiting for me on the front porch.