Put Your Oxygen Mask on First

Turns out when you fly Southwest Airlines with children, the flight attendant will come over, look you in the eye, and individually remind you to put your oxygen mask on first before your beautiful babes. My first mental reaction was “duh” and “I’ve only heard this about 300 times” from my travel days. Then I realized, there’s a reason they walk over to sleep deprived and scatter-brained moms to remind them, you must, for the love of god, take care of yourself first. Yet, every single day, everyone else comes first.

I thought I was alone in this mom world. The world where you’ve lost your ability to take care of yourself. Where you’re so attuned to everyone else’s needs around you, but can’t remember to feed yourself, drink a sip of water, let alone exercise. I can rock a promotion at the corporate job, raise upstanding citizens, and be a decent wife, sister, and friend. But, feed myself three square meals a day? Absolutely not. Ask my husband. Then, I read “Moms, Just Eat the Fruit Dammit” by Nora Zelevansky. Wait a minute. There are other moms out there who struggle so much with Maslow’s hierarchy of needs that our primary fruit source comes from mangled toddler leftovers? There’s comfort in knowing you’re not the only one in this disorienting place.

#selfcare

We’ve heard the well-intentioned idioms ad nauseum like “you can’t pour from an empty cup.” Your social media is filled with self-care tips. Spa days, face masks, bubble baths, mimosa brunches with the bffs (#selfcare). Well intentioned (or not so well intentioned) brands market quick fixes. We all know we need to put on our oxygen mask first, so why does it feel so impossible?

Pithy Answers

So, I’ve identified the problem. But how do you actually breathe again? I’ve had this blog post drafted for over a month now. I’ve been waiting for some pithy answers and wisdom to share. I’ve been waiting for answers to give to myself, but aren’t coming. What does it actually mean to pull that oxygen mask tight, place it over your nose and mouth, and secure the straps?

After churning these questions over and over in my mind, I’m no closer to any prolific wisdom. Trust me, I quit my job, packed up my family, and moved halfway across the world for some guidance, some glimmers. I surely won’t keep it to myself if I find that easy button. Until that button reveals itself, I’ll continue to come back to my word of the year, Nourish, as my north star. We will see what happens.

New here? Start at my first blog post to learn a bit more about our international adventure: In search of nourishment