It Took Me Eleven Summers to Get Here

We've been coming to the same cottage for eleven years now. Same mix of family and friends who feel like family. Eleven summers of the same view, the same lake, the same beach.

And this was the first one where I truly switched off.

It wasn’t just that I “tried” to check my phone less or “tried” to relax, this time I was fully, completely switched off. I was present in my body, I took a lot of quiet time, which was needed. I didn’t spend my time being pulled to the past or the future in my mind, I was able to be just here. 

It would be easy to say it's because my kids are older now, they’re 18 and 13, and so in a lot of ways, that is true. There is more space. I’m not always on guard, watching them, following them around, keeping them safe, answering “mum” every 5 minutes. Their needs aren’t immediate anymore and so there is more space for me to just be. That's the truth but that’s not all of it

I've had easier summers before and still couldn't slow down or be present. I've sat on that same beach in other years and my mind has been three days or three weeks ahead, running through everything waiting for me at home. Or three weeks behind, replaying something that had happened and I was still carrying. My body was in the present but my mind was everywhere but there. 

That's what overwhelm does. It doesn't always look like busyness. Sometimes it looks like a woman on vacation who can't stop thinking about her inbox or the to-do list that’s waiting for her when she gets home. It's a way of distracting yourself from what you don't want to feel or deal with, because if you slow down enough to actually be somewhere, you might feel something you've been outrunning, even unconsciously. Staying in the past or the future is easier and feels safer than staying in your body.

This year, for the first time in months, I didn't write my weekly blog. I just let the week go by without it. And I felt the guilt show up right on schedule, the should creeping in, the little voice telling me I was letting people down, falling behind, not doing enough. Old, familiar guests in my mind.

This time, I let them visit and I let them leave. I didn't argue with them. I didn’t create an inner narrative or story that would blame me or perform my way out of them. I just noticed them, and kept choosing the lake instead.

I can't teach women how to come home to themselves if I'm not willing to do it myself. The work I do is about helping women in midlife stop abandoning themselves for what they think they should be doing, the endless to-do list, the guilt, the performance of being fine. If I can't put that down for a week at the cottage, what exactly am I asking them to trust me with?

So this wasn't just a nice week away. It was proof. Proof that the thing I talk about, choosing yourself, actually being where your body is, isn't just a nice idea. It's something you can build toward. It took eleven years to get here, and probably every one of those summers taught me something I needed before this one could happen.

If you're heading somewhere this summer that's supposed to be restful or fun and you find your mind is somewhere else entirely, maybe ask yourself: what am I avoiding feeling? The answer may not show up right away, especially if you are new to this inner work but just by asking the question means that you are opening the door to new awareness and that's where the magic begins.

Mel x