rest. relax. recover.

Relatively whiny, but brutally transparent, blog entry ahead:

The problem with resting is that it's so wonderful when it's happening, but whilst one is resting (it's me, I'm "one"), she is acutely cognizant of everything that's piling up and waiting for her when the "rest" is over. 

I'm supposed to rest. Doctor's orders. My general practitioner told me to stay out of work until I can get to my neurologist because "I want to keep her away from stressors as much as possible," he told my husband. Ironic, in a way, because "not work" is a significant stressor for me, as it is most teacher moms I know. 

What is rest, exactly, and how does one stay away from stressors? I'm sure it's different for everyone. And as I alluded to in my previous blog, it's difficult to discern between rest and laziness, and dare I add "avoidance" to that list? How do I know if I'm resting, avoiding being an adult (it happens, let's be honest), or just being blah lazy?

Here are some thoughts from my marginally damaged grey matter (and to be clear, I don't know the answer... I'm just brainstorming here):

1. I'm a teacher. We always say that "it's harder to be out than it is to actually go to work." This is more true now- or in any long-term absence - than ever. I didn't ever finish my emergency sub plans (being in a constant state of survival makes it difficult to plan ahead... I know that's not a good excuse, it's just an explanation) so now a huge portion of my "rest" is trying to stay in touch with my sub but keeping it in the "do not worry" section of my head. Hard to balance. On the positive side of things, my students are in a good place, lesson wise- writing a research paper and finishing up a novel/ student workbooks/ film - but I feel guilty for not being physically or emotionally ready to answer questions, print material, or help the kiddos. And, my sub is so beyond incredible, but I feel rotten that I'm not there to walk my kids through the stuff they're supposed to be learning from me. Thank GOD my sub is teaching them- like for real, thank GOD. Additionally, as this is the only senior class I've ever taught and/ or ever will teach, my heartstrings are being yanked on a little (which is soothed a bit by some of them whining about their papers; they're seniors and they're DONE with school). It's just heavy. My administration is stellar- more supportive than I could ask for, but my struggle lies so much in trying to determine what to worry about and what not to.  I'm certainly not so amazing that these children will fall apart without me there- I know that- I just don't know what my role is right now. 

2. I'm a wife. Wuff. The balance struggle here is that biblically, husbands and wives are called to serve each other.  Pre-twostroke, I've had a terrible time serving my husband -  again, survival. Not an excuse, and I'm grateful God can look into my heart, so He knows what's up. Hard to serve when it's full-on putting one foot in front of the other most days. But now, in. this "rest, accept help" phase, I'm trying to ask for and accept help, but it's really putting a strain on my already overwrought husband. So more guilt. More "I'll just do it myself so I don't have to add to his plate." More arguing. More him feeling taken advantage of. More difficult. 

Sigh. 

3. I'm a mom. And, part of that title comes from 2 adult kids, which seems like would be easier. Some, sure, but this phase of mom-ing comes with it some unwritten rules and expectations- like any other, I guess. What's my role as KJ's mom? When do I speak up, when do I shut up? How do I parent a daughter who's married with kids of her own? And for that matter, how do I "grom"? Here we have, again, the juxtaposition of work and rest. What's work, what's acceptable, and what's rest? When do I say "no" or "not now" or "hey. I need some help, please..."

And parenting the non-adult - while in some ways the boudaries and rules for being his mom are a little more clear-cut - when does one rest and how does one rest? How does someone parent a ball-busting, quirky, 9yo kiddo with HFA? How does one do the things the boy wants her to do, and take her "rest" prescription just as seriously? I told him "not right now" ad nauseum pre-twostroke. Now, our activities together are going to have to look like "let's draw," or "let's snuggle" or "show me how to play Minecraft," with way more intention than before. The "not right now" has to stop, right now. 

                                         

4. I'm a student. Grad school after 20 years. Guffaw. I'm getting it done- well- I was getting it done. Now I'm just behind. And again, blogging here, not working on school stuff, watching it pile up. To be fair, journaling, blogging, sorting out the heart and brain heavy- those things are therapeutic for me; I guess it stands to reason that I'm doing this instead of honework. But still, every day, more is added to the "do later" section of my life. Perma-procrastinator, here. The class I'm in right now is the class I've done the best in since I went back to school, and I keep going to my dashboard, looking at my assignments, shaking my head, and closing the tab. It's like I'm so overwhelmed- like when I have to clean a room, or eat an elephant, I don't know which bite to start with. 

Ever seen Pee Wee's Big Adventure? I'm constantly reminded of the snakes in the burning pet store. Pee Wee saves all the animals, running by the snake terrarium each time he dashes out of the store, looking at them and shuddering. Finally, with no more animals to save, he realizes he has to get the snakes. My tasks are the snakes right now. School tasks, mom tasks, wife-ing, teaching... giant snakes, gross, lurking, but I've got to get to them eventually. I know that. And I actually don't hate snakes, by the way. Just a metaphor. 

Basically, the crux of all this is to say that rest is great, in a way. Rest is the needed quiet and calm, and it's something God has built for us and commanded of us. How, though, do we rest, truly? It seems to me that pushing "pause" is just a "not now," and almost creates more UNrest later. Is that true? How do we pause and live in that "hang on a second," rather than focusing on what everything will sound like when it starts back up again? These doctor's orders are becoming stressors; I'm feeing guilty, I'm worried about the snakes, but I'm afraid the life music will be deafening when I hit "resume." 

The pause, to me, is a life-ellipsis. Living in the dot-dot-dot, trailing off, waiting for the finish, then eating the elephant...

...one bite at a time. 

**edited to add, I'm doing some homework now. Yay, me.