So here we are on the eve of February. I have been trying to get things done and prepare myself for a new month, or new year, Chinese style, but there seems to be so much to do and I am a little overwhelmed. (Rather fitting that it is the year of the rooster – cock! – but that is another story.) And that is when I realize I am struggling to find my own voice, to connect with myself and my needs… I’ve been so busy with the day to day and attending to the next pressing task. There is always something – cooking, grocery shopping, spending time with kids, paying bills, dealing with repairs to the house, scheduling… Planning and booking vacations even feels burdensome when I’m navigating airfares and hotels, while trying to find places that we will all enjoy and won’t just feel like more work than just staying at home. Not to mention extra stuff like picking a school for my little guy or planning a birthday party for the big one; this stuff can feel like a full time job at times. In my head I know that many of these things are not that important, but somehow in the moment it keeps me so busy that I don’t get around to getting perspective.

And then I look up suddenly and wonder where I’ve gone. Writing has been an attempt to reconnect with myself and my voice, but there isn’t always time to write, or I find myself writing for other people, to help them or make them laugh. So now I am back to the ongoing job of trying to connect with me. With a family that has been sick all week, with fevers and coughs and floppy bodies, I woke up today and wanted nothing more than for someone to really hear and see me. I felt unappreciated, unsupported, overworked, exhausted. And that is when the little things unhinge me. Things like my husband disagreeing about how many eggs to cook this morning, or the children tossing used tissues on the floor. Suddenly I can’t take it another minute and start reading them all the riot act and telling them how it’s time to listen to me and thank me and be nice to me.

It generally doesn’t go so well when that happens. The boys gets defensive, teary, or defiant… and I feel guilty, angry, and alone. So here I am, grappling with how to handle all this better, how to get the support I need, and how to make sure I don’t neglect myself. I know I should speak up sooner, take better care of myself, make sure I get breaks from caring for everyone else… And yet, its very hard for me to do. I often just don’t realize I’m getting worn out until it’s too late. I feel so deeply responsible for the kids and so committed to caring for them when they are sick and clinging to mama. I stumble through the days, just doing the basics (washing sheets, giving medicine, sterilizing dishes, cooking broth for sick boys…), and don’t really stop to take stock. Writing does help, especially if I can use it to reflect on my day, and if I can be really honest with myself about how I feel or what’s on my mind. Talking to people helps too, good friends, family, other moms. And just getting out for air or a little break, is sometimes enough to help me connect with myself.

I confess, I got so worked up over the last week or so, that I lost sight of writing just for myself. I started thinking too much about others. This is a trap I often fall into. I need to remember to put on my own oxygen mask before helping others. I know what self care looks like, but putting into action is often my downfall. I’m starting by admitting that I’m overwhelmed and completely exhausted after everything the past week has thrown at me. I’m giving myself permission to feel this way. And I’m figuring out what to do next. Trying to make a list of all the things that I want to tackle is a major job in itself – from social action to home organization to making more time to exercise and getting everyone healthy again. At least working on the list is a pretty good start. And it is actually making me feel better. My sister always says, ‘how do you eat an elephant? one bite at a time’ and she is very wise.