Being a light sleeper and living on little sleep is one of my gifts of motherhood. It’s the one without a gift receipt so you never know it’s value and you can’t take it back. When I say this to people they usually assume I’m super productive because of it, but I’m not. That may be up for interpretation. I’m laying it out for you to decide.
Often I lay in bed, scrolling through social media on my phone so I can pretend I’m keeping up with friends. Once my curiosity is satisfied, I will think about the day I had and the day that’s coming. I’m sure I got these questions from a book or something. I don’t remember where but I started doing this at a really painful time in my life when I needed the work each morning to help me get through each moment because pain comes in waves and sometimes riptides.
What am I grateful for today?
Sometimes I’m grateful for a moment to snuggle Kid3. This morning I thought of the back and forth messages from that friendship that always reminds me that he wants better for me than I do at times. He makes me feel beautiful and wanted and he’s safe because we plan to keep each other into old age. He’s amazing. You should have one of him, but not him. He’s mine. Other mornings I’ll think of how great it is to get to do the things I once had no control over or things that took an ability I hadn’t mastered to do because that was the life I had chosen to accept. I wake up grateful that my aging body chooses to not remind me of the years I’ve abused my knees. I’m grateful that avoiding wheat makes me feel like a normal person.
Yesterday was winning because . . .
I think of a concrete example of a moment of joy or excitement or even peace. Yesterday there was enough work to keep me happy and the challenges stroke my brain in all of the good places. There was a space of goodness under heavy skies when my night was full of promise and the conversation was interesting. I couldn’t ask for more in that moment. There was hope on my way home. It got away from me after a few hours, but it consistently sneaks into my dreams throughout the night and I woke up in a good mood.
What was the payout for the risks I took?
I want to take more risks. That step in bravery despite my fear is where I find amazing payouts. Last night it was in writing something that isn’t likely to be shared. I posted this story because while it started out interesting to me, I didn’t invest totally in the dystopian world I had in mind, and it embodied every single one of my fears about writing that great big novel. It is my definition of crap. I shared it because if it’s out there and being what it is meant to be, I can no longer fear the unknown that is far worse in my mind.
Did I keep the agreements I made?
This part was something new from the MITT class I took. I’m often over committing to things I have no interest in doing because I want to be nice. But at the point of agreeing, I’ve broken a commitment to myself to do what makes me happy. It’s a moment where I need to step back and take notice. I’ve entered a space of inauthenticity. What was more important than my honesty? What makes my thoughts, ideas and feelings any less valuable than the person I gave my pseudo existence to? I’ve also been meaning to watch a movie or television because I haven’t been doing that lately, and there’s a museum or two I’ve been wanting to visit. But there’s always tomorrow. These are promises I’ve made to myself and I want to follow through on my desires because I matter.
What goals do I want to kick into existence today?
This morning’s goals look like a to do list. I have plenty of things to fill out and file because that is what autism mom duties often look like. I have housework to get through and I want to write something that washes the remorse of last night and my mild hangover away. I want to write something that changes me as I process what flows freely and I need pull out the stubborn thoughts that nibble quietly at who I am.