Love without care
When I'm not taking care of anyone, I am really me. I wander. I stop. I listen. In short, I do all the things I don't normally do and probably should. Wait...strike that last part from the record. No such thing as "probably should." That's the point.
When I'm not taking care of anyone, it's easier for me to practice the level of mindfulness it takes to live in each moment such that there's nothing I "should have done" because I've done it.
I find myself-in a different city with my husband and I easily: follow with no clue as to where we're going, make sudden stops to read a sign on the wall or sidewalk, and hear birds everywhere. But, back in my own home: I am lightning focused, I have a problem taking breaks for fear of getting off schedule, and I can barely hear my own thoughts.
How do I square this revelation with what I tell my kids every night before bed? "I love being your mom."
I've really been thinking about this conundrum and decided I needed a refresher on what the word care really means. It turns out I don't need to square anything.
I don't tell my kids "I care about being your mom." I'm glad I don't. As it turns out, "care" is all about anxiety, worry, feeling trouble. While I do care deeply about how I show up as a mother, what I want from the bottom of my heart is to love being their mom.
To really "love" being their mom, I need to focus on holding the role itself dear rather than constantly judging my performance (especially by the yard sticks of others). I need to take pleasure in making my children feel I'm devoted to them rather than being ashamed of my tendency to "spoil them." I need to remember to be amused by the chaos and the fact that we're thriving in it.
As with most things, I just need to keep practicing the ultimate skill: love without care. That will make the statement true. I've got to keep practicing. As I tell the kids: mean what you say and say what you mean.
Did you give yourself permission to love without care this week? How did it go?
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