I Have An Admission

Not a confession.

An admission.

I’m exhausted.

And for the first time in my life it’s an admission that’s liberated me rather than turning me into a martyr to keep going.

keep going

(phrase of keep)

make an effort to live normally in spite of difficulty.

"she had to keep going for the sake of her boys"

How did this profound admission come about?

I was cleaning the cat litter tray. Sorry to disappoint but no, I wasn’t doing something like scaling the heights of a mountain or something else that scares the doo doo out of me.

I was cleaning the doo doo out of the litter tray.

I’d had a flare up of tendonitis affecting the back of my hands, putting pressure through my hands was not only incredibly painful they were so stiff but also nigh on impossible to scoop litter.

I fought with a clump of litter.

And it won.

Snap! 

I felt the back of my right hand snap – it hadn’t ‘snapped’ it’s the only way I can describe it. I shouted in agony dropping the litter scoop bursting into tears. I don’t mean the kind of tears where you spill some from simply hurting yourself. I mean the kind of deep sobbing that you never know where it comes from tears.

My son came over asking what I’d done. He thought I’d smacked my fingers on the tray. He saw me holding and rubbing my hands and said “why don’t you leave that and give your hands a break”.

But no, I couldn’t do that. I simply picked up the scoop determined to keep going, determined not to let a litter tray beat me.

“Mom, give your hands a rest, I’ll finish this” my son’s voice was more forceful. I’d never heard him speak like that. He was forceful but also full of concern and love.

The second time, I listened. Putting the scoop down, thanking my son I disappeared upstairs.

I sat on the side of the bed looking at my hands wondering when this bout was likely to pass and cried. I needed to let go.

Tea and Empathy

My son walked into the room with a cup of tea. He makes an amazing cuppa, you’re welcome to come over and experience his tea making.

He placed the cup on the bedside table, told me all the trays were now clean (we have 3 cats, one tray for each although for some bizarre reason they will queue to use one!). He’d emptied the dishwasher and generally tidied up.

He asked if I was ok and why on earth did I even consider carrying on?

Good question well presented. To prove a point? But to whom was I trying to prove the point?

Myself.

Only it didn’t work.

I looked at my son, “I’m exhausted. I’ve been fighting this in my hands I don’t want to fight any more”. “Then stop” came the reply.

He was right.

Instead of doing what I’ve been taught to do which was basically be “fine” or “ok” when actually I wasn’t, I stopped. Women can often suppress what they’re dealing with, cover it up, carry on which can lead to all sorts of issues. We have a tendency to help and support others even if we are facing a challenging situation ourselves.

So I stopped.

I took time out for an hour. I sat and let my body talk. I let the pain dance around my fingers, my hands and my wrists. I resisted the urge to rub my hands I realized it didn’t really help in my case. Instead I just let it be. It was enough to notice how much tension had built up in my body fighting something beyond my control. It is what it is, do what I can, let go of the rest.

By admitting exhaustion it was an act of letting go. That act led my hands and wrists becoming flexible and pain free within a couple of hours. How does that work?!

Whatever challenge you may be facing whether its work, home, family, friend related, take an hour out, if you can’t do that take 15 or 30 minutes, let go, give your mind and body a break and simply be in the moment.

It’s amazing what happens.