Recently, instead of working countless hours on the weekends—vending at markets and handling endless hours of cleanup—I have spent these days with my little one. It has been just the two of us while my husband is away with the military.
And without even trying, I swear this kid delivers one mic drop after another—his little actions, his huge heart, and his inherently kind nature are absolutely chock-full of life lessons.
Watching him play as I write on this Sunday afternoon, I see a kid that is all of 25 pounds, walking around in his mama’s shoes.
Though they slow his movements, he wears them with pride.
Though he stumbles, he keeps going.
When he falls, there’s no hesitance to get right back up.
He pitter-patters about with the same mischievous, yet sweetly innocent, mannerisms as always.
He rarely gets frustrated by the setbacks of wearing shoes that clearly don’t fit his tiny little feet. But if he does, he doesn’t let it ruin his day or impede on his ability to play.
Rather, he adjusts. He persists. He improvises. Heck, he even walks around with only one shoe, or the far-too-big-shoes barely hanging on the wrong feet. But it never keeps him from moving onward.
He shoots the basketball, builds his wonky block towers, and goes down his little red slide all while wearing his mama’s shoes.
Instead of focusing on the slowing of his cadence, he seems entirely determined to adapt. Little did he know that by doing so, he was demonstrating a literal, and figurative, representation of walking in his mama’s shoes.
Because life for this mama lately has been slow. I have faltered. I’ve been discouraged by the setbacks and I’ve fallen many, many times. But, just like Enzo, I keep getting up. Sure, I have bad days, but I do persist.
And to see that little kid demonstrating that same “fighter spirit” in such a simple, leisurely, and unhurried manner… well, it about tore my heart in half.
In that moment, he was walking proof that a swift and accelerated timeline doesn’t define a person’s worth. Nor does productivity. Whether barefoot and “super speedy” or steadily shuffling in the shoes of someone much larger than himself, he was just as pleased with his progress.
Life isn’t a race. It isn’t a competition.
And it’s certainly not linear.
As adults, we often get so swept up in our goals, our careers, and the hectic nature of our lives. We forget to rest, until our bodies command it. And we think of “self care” as a luxury for those who must somehow have more time than we do.
But the truth is that we all have the same hours in a day. And while there, of course, are unavoidable responsibilities and obligations that must be upheld, we do not do ourselves any favors by not prioritizing those “self care” moments—however that looks for you.
I’ve been living this lesson for literal years nows. And, trust me, it hasn’t been easy. I am only just recently making mindful decisions to prioritize self-care rather than my body forcing me to. And, boy, do I still have a long way to go…
I have always been a pretty “go, go, go” type of person, but when life gives you lemons… in the form of several chronic diseases… you learn to "go" with the flow. The “slowdown” is often forced, not sought out. It can feel like there is little choice and control left in your life. And I thank God that I am the type of person who is generally okay with spontaneity. Because instead of planning ahead as I used to do with friends, work, family outings, etc.—I am met with “spontaneous” days in bed, spontaneous months of physical setbacks and health issues that no one can explain or understand.
So, I try to embrace the spontaneity. On especially good days, if I have no plans, I make them. With friends, with myself, with my son, or by baking, it doesn’t matter. But the joy those plans bring me creates a necessary balance in my life that I am so grateful to have.
I’m still learning how to navigate the ever-changing circumstances of living with chronic health issues.
And while the shoes on my feet may be the proper size, I’m still adjusting and adapting as I grow into the weight of them.
Repeat after me: your productivity does not define your worth; “doing less isn’t being less”.
It is true that I don’t have control over all that I wish I did—none of us do. But, I do have control over how I choose to respond to my circumstances. And there is some freedom in that notion for me.
I do not write this with any sort of need or search of sympathy, but rather, to help bring a bit of understanding to an experience that can feel rather lonely and extremely misunderstood. In fact, I write this in complete hopes that most of you do not have any understanding of what it’s like to personally experience the impact chronic health issues can have on your mind and body. And also on your relationships: to self, and to others.
But for those that do understand: I hear you—even when the doctors do not. I see you—even when you feel invisible. And, I am you—even when I don’t want to admit or accept it for myself.
Acceptance can be difficult to the point of “identity crisis” at times… but I’m choosing to believe that even while I accept myself and my body for what it is in its current state, that doesn’t have to mean that things will always be this way. Acceptance doesn’t equal defeat. It just means I don’t have to live in denial of who I currently am. And, most importantly, it means that I need to give myself the grace, love and patience I deserve. The grace, love and patience that I would give anyone. else.
I’ve said many times that motherhood has finally been the thing to teach my stubborn heart some patience. And though I’d like to think (and hope) that I’m teaching Enzo just as much as he’s teaching me… I’m simply not sure that’s ever going to be true. But I genuinely can’t think of a more grace-filled, patient and loving teacher.
I mean… seriously, how lucky am I?
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