Kleenex, Karma and Kups

Summer colds are the worst. It is rare that I catch one but through a series of fortunate circumstances involving air travel, here I am home from work, curled up with a blanket flanked by a nearly empty box of tissues. My nose is gloriously red and the size of one of those costume clown noses. I sound about the same as wearing one. I should consider doing birthday parties. My clown name could be SNEEZY.

Colds or any illness really, serve as a reminder that self-care is critical. As mothers and professionals, we care for children and our partners at home. We care for our staff and our clients at work. We care for our neighbors and friends also. We drain our cup and for many of us, we forget to fill it back up again. Empty cups leave us no reserve to draw on when we need it most but we still think we can keep going on empty. If our cars can’t do it, why do we think we can?

It is very challenging for me to rest on days when I am not well. It derails my productivity as an unexpected detour. I typically have my list of things I need to accomplish ready for each day, materials assembled and staged for deployment. I pride myself on being organized and prepared. Karma however, gets a good laugh when I hit that wall and know there is no way I am getting through my list of things to do. I can picture her chuckling while she sips her tea and gives me a little wink. She has a middle name, you know…it starts with a B.

My cup is empty when I can’t do my very best work because all the resources I have are dedicated to basic function, just getting through. Joy for me is found in the process of work, the relationships and the stories I gather along the way. If I am just getting it done, slogging through as it were, I am missing the very thing that motivates and inspires me. That isn’t the mother or professional I want to be. So I have a choice.

A wise teacher in my company would tell her pupils, myself included, that we needed to go to our source of strength before we went to our source of stress. Her gestures were big and demanded that you see what she expected of you and not just hear her words. She was clear and unwavering in her expectation that we would work to be grounded enough to recognize our empty cup and invest in what was needed to fill it back up again. She had no tolerance for unnecessary martyrs or excuses. I loved that about her.

So here I sit attempting to refill my cup, knocking back this cold with rest. I should consider buying stock in Kleenex.