Professional mom seeking clarity, balance and a well deserved glass of wine.
You can scroll the shelf using ← and → keys
You can scroll the shelf using ← and → keys
When I started working with my business coach, Peleg, he asked me a most interesting question:
PELEG: “What does your sacred space looked like every day?”
ME: “My what?”
PELEG: “Sacred space.”
ME: “What’s that?”
PELEG: “You know, a specific time every day when you spend time with yourself, thinking, writing, praying, meditating, exercising, whatever moves you.”
Now, have you ever seen the movie “Money Pit” (Tom Hanks, Shelley Long) when the bathtub falls through the floor and Tom Hanks starts laughing uncontrollably. Sounded like a donkey invaded his body. Well, that was pretty much the next sound Peleg heard come from me. Sacred space. Who had time for that. I’m a wife, mother of two, business owner, sister, friend, daughter, slightly insane Prozac-taking highly caffeinated gal. I don’t have time for a sacred space. So easy for a gay man with no kids to suggest, I thought. He’s so cute with his “sacred space” idea.
Well, now I was intrigued. This was a challenge to be conquered. Where would it be? What would it look like? How could I fit it in? I started thinking about this “sacred space” idea and tried to picture where exactly it would fit into my day. My husband leaves for work at 5:30am (or as I like to call it “zero dark thirty”). I have to get the kids up and ready for school. Drop them off. Grab my Venti Starbucks bold with cream (early morning elixir of the Gods). Call my mom or sister maybe while creeping along the 55 freeway. Arrive at the office (the happy place) and gear up for a day of retooling B2B brands in the building products industry. After work, make the 10 mile drive home, that takes 30 minutes to an hour (gotta love California). Possibly pick up the youngest, if it’s a softball practice night for my oldest. Otherwise they are all at home waiting to shower me with hugs and tales of their day (overwhelming, but very cool). Try and workout with the hubby (in our make-shift garage gym). Then there’s dinner to make (if I didn’t pick something up). Clean up. Prepare school lunches for the next day. Throw some kids in the tub. Break up an argument (someone was staring at the other one….or something important like that). Help with hair brushing and teeth cleaning. Find some clean pj’s. By this time it’s 8:30 and time for the reading of many books and the singing of many songs and the rubbing of the back for the little one. Then Daddy comes in for round two and I make my way to daughter #1’s room to converse about who said what at school that day and answer questions like, “Mom, what’s a douche bag?” Then after fetching some water for that last little drink. Throwing in a load of laundry. It’s time to actually sit down and have a glass of wine (evening elixir of the Gods). And take a breath and say hi to my husband. Let’s not forget sex. Ok, let’s. I’m too tired. My basket is a little empty and I don’t really feel sexy right now.
“Sacred space”…….yeah! Right!
Ok, so after doing some soul searching I decided I could make an appointment with myself every morning before the kids get up. Waking up at 5:45 goes against every fiber of my being. It’s so not in alignment with my inner clock. I decide to do some yoga or pilates and have some quiet time.
I start this and it actually feels refreshing. I then decided to add journaling and that has been very therapeutic. Just to sit and write for 5 or 10 minutes after I work out. It feels very fun and freeing. A much better start to the entire day. Now, there have been a few hurdles to overcome…for when I first started this my youngest was waking up early on a semi-regular basis. There would be mornings when I would be rushing through my new “sacred time” and sorting through my mind clutter awaiting the arrival of that adorable little face who woke up early and messed up my special time. I would be in downward facing dog and suddenly that adorable little face along with her darling little body are laying under me. Chatteranga pushups are hard enough on their own, but try doing them with a 2 year old on your back. Not easy and very frustrating. Zen killer!
I’m happy to report now that my youngest is four, she sleeps in. Every day! I also quit feeling like it was an intrusion if she joined me. I actually got her a pink yoga mat and encouraged her to work out with me. She’ll also sit and watch Sponge Bob and eat cereal all alone for an hour. SWEET!! I don’t always keep my appointment with myself, but i do have a sacred space and I can tell you what it looks like and how it feels and how good it’s been for me. I share with you and encourage you to adopt one.
(Thank you Peleg!)
Stay sane, my friends.