Last summer I said goodbye to a waitressing gig that had crossed over into sucking the friggin’ life out of me and leaving nothing for my children between shifts. I spent the fall, winter and spring being a full-time homeschooling mother again, and loved it.
I got up before the rest of the house, read daily, journalled, worked out, went to the gym, took the kids to a kids’ class at the rec centre, took the kids to the pool, hit Sunday morning kickboxing and mash-up class religiously (you could call it my church), and wrote and published a book. I took the kids to the library, read to them, played games and went for walks with them. I ran 5km every few days.
By the time spring was rolling around, I was pulled back into the idea of only working one day a week over the summer. And then we thought my husband was facing serious health issues that could possibly completely alter the year ahead, and dent our finances immensely. So I got a three-day-a-week solid part-time job that required minimal energy and left me with something to give on my days off.
It wasn’t what we feared, and he is well. I am working three days a week. I am still homeschooling, but the emotional toll of so much over the last few months has left me empty. And a couple of months ago, I realized I needed to go easy on myself.
Some days I just wanted to sleep and do nothing. Some days, I have done nothing (sleep is not an option in a household of nine), or simply done the minimal. I never understood my husband’s need for a complete rest for a few weeks over the winter after a busy season building and renovating. Now I do.
Unlike last year, when progress was checked on regularly and goals were set and re-written as needed, goals have been thrown out the window. The one goal that has taken precedence over everything has been to simply do what is needed to regain my energy and sense of self again. To hibernate for as long as I need to. And I had no idea how long that would be, which scared me a little (more like a lot).
I am seeing the light at the end of the tunnel. Not that the tunnel is dark, per se. Just a whole lot different from what I am used to. And that’s ok. It’s a season. And I am wise enough to accept it for what it is, and live it until it’s days end.
Even crazy ENFPs need a rest sometimes.