FROM MY LIFE

I Need Silence And Structure

Looking at those teenage years, I found a bit of the answer

I recently wrote an article about taking care of yourself, and the genuine question to my readers if you know how to do that.

Because… seriously… I don’t.

Yes, of course I know about hygiene and sleep, about eating well, exercising and all that. But how to put myself first? How to make sure my needs are met? What even my needs are? My boundaries?

If someone asks me that, I draw a blank.

But…

There’s always a ‘but’, right?

Finding some answers

Writing that article and asking that question had it going round and round my mind. I really wanted the answer, and instinct told me I need to find the answer in myself. Some days after that article, I had one answer: because of this comment my wonderful friend left me:

Women who have had families often find it difficult to prioritise their needs — or get up and think of themselves first — rather than anyone else. No answer, but try and remember when u were an early teen — we were more selfish then, and see if u can bring that Marie into your life, even if for one day a week. ~ May More

That comment stayed in my head, and I am forever thankful to May for her words, as it put me on the right track.

I was a mom at 16, and from there on had someone depending on me to take care of them. I thought back on the years before that, the way I would withdraw to my bedroom, reading one book after the other or go outside to play my fantasy games, or practice for upcoming gymnastics competitions all by myself.

After a busy day at work, and then an evening out, I was cranky, but tried to suppress my upset feelings, not really understanding where it came from. All I wanted was to put the day behind me, but also get away from the constant sound of the television my husband had switched on when we got home. Getting ready for bed, I remembered a talk I had heard on the radio recently about introverts having to keep themselves standing in an extroverted world. I googled ‘introverts burnout’, and where some things sounded familiar, there wasn’t any eureka moment.

The only thing I really took from it is the fact I need silence to refuel myself for the outside world, and I once more thought of those quiet moments as a teenager. At that moment, I could’ve kicked myself, because needing silence to refuel is something I had realized before, but I did nothing with the knowledge.

That same evening, after withdrawing into myself, watching a series with headphones on, I lay down to sleep. Just like I have my best and clearest thoughts under the shower, it also happens in those minutes before I fall asleep — sometimes much more than mere minutes.

That night those minutes, brought thoughts about the decluttering I started in the attic, and all the other things I want to do, and what I want to change in the rooms, how I want to take ownership of the house the way I had never done before. The ideas kept coming and suddenly I had intense clarity: I need silence and structure.

Writing to my coach

The following day, I sent my coach a message, asking if I could send her a document with my thoughts. I had never done this before, but I wanted to do so now, so we could discuss that document in our next meeting, which would be two days later. On her approval, I sat down and started typing.

I told her about walking with pain, then the tears and how during the crying I thought: it feels like I’m not crying only because of the pain; like there’s more to my tears.

I continued to say how my thoughts kept going around about putting myself first and how to do it and even included the Medium piece I had written. Then I told her about the revelation about needing silence and structure.

Of course, I shared more about my crying of the consequent days, about the terrible pain I was in to the point that a doctor prescribed Tramadol. Also about giving in to the tiredness and going to bed to rest — something I barely ever do. Every time I cried in those days, I had the same feeling: this is not only about the pain.

The tears went deeper than only the physical. Like I said in the previous post:

Admitting to myself and accepting my need always seems to make me cry.

Why?

Is it because at that moment I am being really honest with myself?

It is a kind of relief that I finally see it and am ready to admit it?

The coach wrote a big, fat YES next to that.

Something that triggered her to research even more is the following extract, and that I wrote in the document that anything she or I come up with to help/heal me has to fit into my life:

In my mind, I start conversations — the same conversation, repeatedly — in which I explain my need, and offer the motivation for my request. Then, by the time I dare to speak the words, I am already so angry with the world that my words come out all wrong, and I can’t even remember all those beautiful ones that went around in my head.

She shared her research with me, getting us to a point from where we will depart in follow-up meetings, which will help me get in touch with my own needs, know my boundaries, and heal my inner child.

That I need silence and structure is a fact, but there’s so much more. Too much to write about here, as that one word she came up with reading my document has me doing my research.

More to come…

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