Epiphany?

There's something to be said about middle-of-the-week-drinking-too-much-red-wine-staying-up-late-talking-and-laughing that reminds me life can still be lived even when you are exhausted from raising kids, drained from the job you detest, and worn out from doing laundry.

And part of that something is a reminder to me, akin to a slap upside my head or a well deserved kick in the ass, I need to take care of myself, physically, mentally and spiritually.

Like many women I've talked to, it seems to be ingrained in us from the time we are little girls that we are supposed to take care of, to nurture, to cook, to clean, to organize, to remember every single little detail (Where is my favourite pencil? Where are my white socks? Nooo, the ones with the blue stripe at the top! Do we need more milk? How much money do we owe the cable company?) about those we share our lives with. We become so preoccupied by all the minute details of everyday that we forget, we put aside until later, the woman and the little girl inside, who needs love and attention too.

Lately, I've looked in the mirror and hardly recognize myself. Who are you? I am soft and doughy from lack of exercise, there are dark circles under my eyes from lack of sleep, and a generally haggard, tense expression on my face.

Someone recently asked me, "What's your passion?" I opened my mouth to reply, and nary a sound emerged. This struck me as sad and kind of pathetic. Doesn't everyone have something they are passionate about?

My hubby has mentioned to me a few times of late that I need to lighten up. I took it offensively because who wants to admit they might be wound tighter than a heavy-duty spring? And it stung a little to know he's speaking truth. Today, I can feel the love behind his words and for that I'm grateful.

Time to break out a new notepad and make me a list.