I know what you’re thinking: Another post about Marie Kondo. Nope. Maybe a post about excusing the mess because my kids are making memories? No, again. While this post is about the mess, it’s not about the outside mess.
Instead, it’s about the mess inside my head.
A little over two months ago, we came home from the hospital with our second daughter. Like our first, she was delivered via C-section due to my type 1 diabetes. Unlike my first, she decided to make her entrance three hours ahead of time and spent the first day and a half of her life in the NICU due to breathing complications. Fortunately, she recovered quickly and we went home as scheduled, four days after the delivery.
As someone who is no stranger to anxiety and depression, I came home from the hospital — hopped up on pregnancy hormones — with more than just a newborn: I came home with a very messy mind. I spent the beginning of my second daughter’s life filled with contradicting emotions: I was happy and sad, confident yet terrified, on high-alert and half asleep.
I remember looking at my older daughter and feeling mom guilt. For the first two years and nine months of her life, she was an only child. Even more, she was the only grandchild on my side, and the first grandchild in 20 years on my husband’s side. Now she had to share the spotlight with this new little person. Meanwhile, she was too busy hugging and kissing her sister to realize I was plagued by guilt.
In addition, I was terrified that my newborn would continue to have breathing issues (she didn’t). I was also worried I would again struggle to breastfeed (I did, but nowhere near as much as with my first). I was thrilled because we were home in time for Christmas, but stressed because I felt like I had to create the perfect holiday. The space behind my cheerful eyes and between my listening ears had become a breeding ground for checklists, to-do lists, fears, worries, guilt, and anxiety. It needed a deep cleaning.
For me, that usually involves running or yoga, but these options were off the table for at least six weeks. This mess could not wait six weeks. At the suggestion of a friend, I downloaded the Headspace app and began meditating. One of my favorite things about this app, in addition to the lovely voice that guides each meditation, is that it offers free daily meditations that range from three to 20 minutes in length. I have neither the ability nor the time to sit still for 20 minutes, but I could handle three minutes each day.
After meditating each day for a couple of weeks, I began to feel more grounded. The meditations did not tell me to stop thinking or feeling; instead, they helped me to observe my thoughts without judgment. Meditation reminded me that I do not have to perseverate. Instead, I can allow my thoughts to pass, like clouds, and return to them if and when I choose. It reminded me to breathe and check in with my body — that breath is the foundation of everything. It helped me to be present. Eventually, the three minutes of meditation began to spill into the rest of my day.
Disclaimer: I don’t meditate every day. I also don’t beat myself up (for longer than five minutes) if I fall asleep before meditating. I do return to meditation when I miss a day or two. It doesn’t completely cure the racing thoughts or guilt, but it does help me cope a little better. Rather than being consumed by the mess in my mind, I can allow it to pass. Meditation reminds me that thoughts and feelings are not facts, they are just clouds, and behind the clouds is a blue sky that is always there.
Each meditation ends by thanking you for meditating and taking the time to take care of yourself. How wonderful is that? While my house isn’t any cleaner or more organized, I do believe I am tidying up my mom-mind by accepting it for what it is, and giving myself credit for keeping two little humans happy, healthy, and alive.
