Ive heard that refrain countless times during my adolescence and well into my young adulthood.
As if fatigue is something that is reserved for people over a specific, but mysterious age.
Growing up, my household was not one that focused on wellness.
I was not allowed to take time for myself, or to erect boundaries.
Instead, my familys tradition was to keep moving.
To push what is difficult aside because those before you went through worse.
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That if you are only focused on upward mobility, you cant go wrong.
On its face, there isnt anything wrong with promoting the general idea of a good work ethic.
They say that hindsight is 20/20.
Rest was an unfamiliar concept to me.
I was stressed over the SATs.
At the time, I was told that I was just an overachiever.
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I have to make room for self-compassion.
In therapy years later, I learned that anxietysometimes presents itself as irritability.
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But back then, Id been told I was just moody and had a bad attitude.
What room do we have to center our wellness then?
I refuse to categorize that as living anymore.
My version of wellness might look a little different from the stereotypical fitted yoga pants and early-morning green smoothies.
For one thing, rest and slowing down are paramount.
I have set a clear boundary to never start workingno matter how much I have to dobefore 8 a.m.
The bottom line is that its about what works forme.
Centering my actual needs, as you might imagine, is a new concept.
Recently, I left a full-time job with benefits for two part-time jobs without any.
But the old adage of not being able to pour from an empty cup is painfully true.
I had no patience for my partner.
I had no motivation to write.
I had no time to participate in the community events I was interested in.
All signs that I needed to put myself first and leave for something new.
As an adult, Ive also become incredibly intentional about self-compassion.
But what they likelydontsee is my daily self-talk and affirmations.
Those are all things that I did not learn from my family of origin.
Mistakes were not accepted, nor were they forgotten.
So when I make a mistakeI take a beat.
Breathe in for three, hold for four, breathe out for five.
Im a work in progress, undoubtedly.
I have to make room for self-compassion.
If need be, I will cry, I will say no, I will take a break.
It makes me all the more able to get back up and retry the next day.
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