All I Want for Christmas

Dec 17, 2010 04:34

Today (well, technically, yesterday, but who's counting?) I filled out my application for the PhD program I hope to get into, and then, as the corn bread was baking, I sat down and introspected real hard: I love what I do, but I can't go on like this indefinitely. It's not the "work," mind you, but rather my growing inability to relax before, during, or after that work. The tension I feel serves no purpose whatsoever -- I've just forgotten how to relax, both mentally and physically.

What do I want for Christmas? I asked myself. What do I really want for Christmas?

Several years ago, prior to having children, I always took the month of December (actually, between Thanksgiving and Solstice) to have my Annual Winter Retreat, where I would regroup, rejuvenate, rethink, and then be ready to go flying into the upcoming New Year, after due celebration of course. For the past few years, i.e. since having children, the Christmas season in just one more giant event, one more (albeit wonderful and festive) thing to do. In other words, I have neglected my Winter Retreat for far too long.

This year, it won't be the luxurious three weeks I was accustomed to, but rather a concentrated, and somewhat less intense, ten days to two weeks. I can't do things like shut down my entire life, stop speaking for a week, and meditate for twelve hours a day, but I can do the version of that that my current life allows. There is a part of me that feels SO utterly relived, the part that has been "on" for six years now without a break. (I don't count that first year of motherhood, because that was the most "retreated," relaxed, blissed-out time of my entire life.) I need to "power down" several of the analytic centers of my brain, spend some time meditating, breathing, doing yoga, dancing, laughing, painting, cleaning, sleeping, writing (creatively), and just having down time.

So, what does this mean, practically speaking?

One of the big things I realize myself needing is an absence of external inputs. I'm not sure how else to phrase that; it is a milder version of the sentiment I expressed about twelve years ago, just prior to taking my first serious retreat, when I said, "My head if full of people and none of them are me." This is not nearly that intense -- I'm still definitely in here and the loudest of all, and don't feel other voices "encroaching" on my selfhood -- but at the same time, there is a part of me that really wants to climb inside the cave of my self, stare at the walls, and see what echoes back to me in the silence.

In addition, my husband is taking two weeks of vacation, during which time we intend to 1) CLEAN the house 2) spend a lot of quality family time 3) do festive holiday things and 4) be together as much as we can. We always use the approach of the New Year to reprioritize and to "synchronize our watches," so to speak, but we are due for a very large systemic overhaul in that area, thus, this time will be partially dedicated to that as well.

Starting after the weekend, my plan is to not spend nearly as much time interacting digitally or electronically with anyone who is not in my immediate family. I want to really pay attention to my kids, my husband, the friends who are coming to visit, the social gatherings I am actually in, and most importantly, myself. I need some attention from ME in order to stay well, relax, and get my focus readjusted. I plan not to text, not to answer the phone (or even leave the ringer on), and not to spend time on Facebook for a little while. That's not to say I won't possibly leave a "Merry Christmas!" status update, but rather that I don't plan to scan through what others are doing for a few days, not because I don't care, but because I want to "limit my inputs." I just want to be with me in here for a little while, to take care of myself, to implement a sustainable practice of relaxing, and to reinforce my closest and dearest relationships with my family.

That is what I want for Christmas, and so, that it what I shall get.
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