Finding “Me Time”
It was a hot summer day as four scrawny teens hiked to a lookout rock on one of the beautiful little islands on the Pacific Northwest Coast. I was one of them. After a few hours we reached our rocky lookout destination and sat down to have lunch while looking out at the view. While everyone had their heads down getting lunch together, I was still looking at the beautiful view in front of me. Just then, a full-grown eagle slowly glided right past me.
The moment took place within a second or two and remains one of the most impressive encounters with nature that I have ever had. If I would’ve stretched out my hand, I could’ve touched his wing. He was enormous. (I saw then how their wingspan can be up to 6 feet.)
As he glided past, he looked at me and we made eye-contact. Gulp. This eagle saw me. I mean, really saw me. He scanned everything about me: my body, my personality, my character…I felt completely exposed as the eagle seemed to search my soul and then continued gliding past. I had never had an experience like that before and was was left completely speechless. If I had any doubts about the existence of a creator at that time, I didn’t afterward. The moment was holy and has remained with me for life.
Almost 20 years later…
I was so busy. Too busy. My second son was eight months old and in full crawling mode / putting-everything-in-his-mouth mode. Everyone says the hardest part is when the baby is born, but I always had lots of help during that time. With both of my kids, the hardest part was when they became mobile and curious. That’s when they put forks into outlets, Lego into their mouths, hands in the toilet, pull down bookshelves, find lost coins and put them in their mouths. Nothing gets done. 100% supervision is required. Day after day, I would try to be productive but every step forward, felt like two steps back: more laundry, more dishes, more sleepless nights. My kids needed me every. damn. second. It got to a point when going to the washroom was my only minute in peace and even then, they would put their fingers through the crack in the door and need something from me.
All the while, once the apartment was tidied I would try to reclaim a few meagre moments in the evening before going to bed myself. Exhausted, I would go on social media and see what my friends were up to. During this time, probably reading Facebook articles, this concept of “me time” came up. Apparently, every parent should get time in the day to be a little selfish and indulge to recharge their batteries. This would help them be better parents.
I loved the idea. I mean, what’s not to love? Legitimized time by myself! Are you kidding me? Dreamy! I called up my family network and announced that I needed some moments to myself: Like, going for a coffee for an hour. (Nothing major.)
My family was supportive and I loved these moments. Being kid-free gave me a taste of freedom and I savoured every second. Even grocery shopping without kids became a total luxury. I would go home so happy, and think about the next time I could get out.
I started to notice a dark side though. I wasn’t liking my time at home anymore. I felt like my children were robbing me of my independence. I was resentful that my husband got to work and that I needed to stay home. Any time that someone would need to cancel childcare, I was devastated, and would continue with the daily monotony. I kept subscribing to the idea that “me time” was what I should be getting and striving for. Everyone around me was saying that it’s important and I like to do things right.
During the summer, we went for a day trip to the island where I had hiked during my teens. My dad had been doing some work there and wanted to show me around. Myself and my two sons, traipsed after my dad, who showed us different areas of the island that he thought we’d like: spooky old trees, enormous red cedars, a giant boulder completely out of place, super spongy moss, and a huge eagle’s nest.
When we got to the eagle’s nest, there were all kinds of racket coming from above and a complete wreckage of feathers and animal parts underneath the nest on the forest floor. I had never seen such a mess before in the forest! My dad explained that there were eaglets in the nest and that they were constantly making noise and throwing things out of the nest. He said they were hilarious: all day long, they never stopped. The eaglets were high up in the trees so we found a good lookout and waiting in case we could see the parents at some point.
Suddenly, in fly the parents: eagle mom and eagle dad. I don’t know what I was expecting, but I wasn’t expecting what I saw. These eagles were totally dishevelled with their feathers sticking out in every direction. In every way they looked weary to the point of exhaustion. They arrived at the nest where their ungrateful young waited, dropped off the food, and left again in search of more food…completely drained and hardly flying straight. The eaglets on the other hand, continued their racket and mess-making.
Wait. This is the King and Queen of the skies! What happened to the mighty eagle? The breathtaking creature that we see soaring high in the skies. The majestic bird that looked deep into my soul. The emblem of the United States. The messenger to the creator. And here the eagles were, completely overwhelmed by the demands of parenting.
For some reason seeing eagle parents look like shit made my life feel okay again (‘scuse the swear, but nothing else works here). I realized in that moment that I was in a phase: a phase of sacrifice. I am aware that there are many articles out there that will disagree with this, but the reality is that “me time” is not natural. There are no animal parents out there who get time to be selfish and indulge a little. They completely give up their lives (and often dignity) for the sake of their young. Every waking second is for their offspring. This is what parenting young looks like: total sacrifice.
Since I had nothing to lose, I decided to try a new approach: I ditched the idea of “me time.” I resolved that for the next few years, I would probably have no time to myself and that I would give myself wholly to the raising of my own, noisy, mess-making young.
And what do you know, I entered into some of the happiest times of my life. I started to really enjoy time with my children. No longer having this insatiable goal of “me time” dangling in front of me, I became deeply content. Even with a messy apartment. Even with little half-eaten toddler-sized meals all over the place. Even with toilet paper that was constantly in a pile beside the toilet instead of on the roll (one of my children especially loved to unravel toilet paper.) I was so content and became so in love and present with my boys. We became inseparable. We are inseparable.
I often think back to this lesson. So often we can read convincing articles and in our heads want convince ourselves of something that is contrary to reality. What other ideas do I believe are “good practice” but are actually wearing me down? The natural world speaks its truth loud and clear but the responsibility to listen is ours. Can we be honest enough and humble enough to hear its messages?
