If I had to pick one motto that constantly surfaces in my
life it would probably be “The show must go on.” This is a phrase that I have
repeated to myself for years, starting from when I was young, teaching group
fitness classes and personal training. When you teach, no matter what you are
teaching, you are putting on a show. And that show must go on no matter if you
are sick, tired or hurt. And it better be a pretty damned good show. My boss
and I taught through stomach flu, strep throat, sprained ankles and
pregnancies. We didn’t miss a beat. I taught with a heart monitor hanging from
my neck, I taught the day after an ultrasound to see if I had a pulmonary
embolism. I was scheduled to teach the morning I delivered my first son. I
taught the first day back from maternity leave.
As I’ve gotten older, the show has changed. I may not be
teaching exercise classes like I used to, but my life has filled in with a
career, a marriage, and two busy kids. There is never a dull moment. Every
night is “something.” Sometimes it’s sports or music and sometimes it’s just
the usual drill of homework and dinners. But there is always something that
needs my attention and if for a minute I should forget that, I will hear the
“MOM” call that we all know and love (?).
As life has gotten busier and more people depend on me to be
a ring master, I’ve been thinking about that motto more and more. And I’m not
unique in this. Every mom I know has done the same. We are like the post office
– through rain, snow, wind, heat, the mail is always delivered, and Mom is
always there. Too much is counting on us. Some of us are working full-time
outside the home and full-time inside the home when we get off work. Some of us
have the 24-hour job of working inside the home. All of us have jobs to do in
one way or another and there is not an option to take a time out.
This, my dear friends, is bull shit. One Saturday I stole 50
minutes while everyone was awake (normally my “me” time is between the hours of
4-6 a.m.) and went to the gym. And I felt like I was on borrowed time – I had
my phone on the console of the elliptical, prepared to take whatever need came
my way. I had to still get groceries, unload everything, and get people ready
for their next sporting events, where I would spend the rest of the day being
the supportive ever-cheerful mom that I am not always. And I thought to myself
the usual “the show must go on!” But this time I paused and had a thought that
had never occurred to me before. “When the fuck is intermission?”
You see, recently I have been struggling with the toughest
moment of my life so far*. And yet…the show must go on. I hide in a bathroom to
take a deep breath so no one knows anything is wrong, because the ring master
is always smiling and directing the clowns and dancing bears. I take 5 minutes
in my car to scream at the universe and then smile at my children as I enter
the house. Because Moms don’t get breaks. Moms don’t get intermission.
How many times have you been physically or emotionally hurt,
sick, or exhausted? And how many times have you ignored what you need so that
the circus that is our lives can continue on? We spin those worlds so that
everyone else gets to be fulfilled with their activities, have their emotional
and physical needs met, and still read books at the end of the day and we
ignore what we need. Now sometimes we are sick enough that we have no choice
but to lie in bed (for a day – you get one day). But I’m willing to bet all I
have that there are constant knocks on that bedroom door asking math questions
and “what’s for dinner?”
So when IS intermission? When do we get a break when we
absolutely need one from our lives? When things are so bad that we can barely
function, we still press on. After I had knee surgery and could barely get
myself to a bathroom and had to have other people dress me, I rallied, took
some pain medicine and dragged myself to my son’s school activities because I
don’t dare miss them for something as minor as major knee surgery. I planned on
going back to work immediately because I am not going to stop this show for
something as trivial as my physical healing. Slap some ice on it, take some
pain killers, dry your tears, hide your pain – people need you and the last one
you will attend to is yourself.
What makes us resist the idea of taking a pause, a break
when we really need one? There are times when we would heal so much faster if
we would listen to ourselves for once and take an hour, a day, a week or maybe
a month to just let all of those acts run themselves for a bit and just tell
the world, “I need a moment.” And without apology too. Instead we push
ourselves to still be that one person to everyone because that’s what is
expected and what they demand. There are times in our lives that require us to put
all of our energy into ourselves instead of into others, just to survive
whatever tribulation we are experiencing. And those moments need to be honored
and respected for their gravity by giving them space to breath and recover.
Those moments require an intermission.
Right now I’m in a place where I just can’t always be there for
the show. There are times I give up and admit defeat and take 10 minutes to
fall apart, before gathering myself up for the crowd. And let me be honest; I
need more than 10 minutes but it is all I can give myself permission for right
now. It is humbling and reminds me that I am human and sometimes I just cannot.
It’s a forced baby step towards something we all need to do for ourselves. It’s
hard but it’s only fair. Sometimes the ringmaster needs to take off the fancy
costume and let the monkeys run the show for a little bit. Because if we don’t
take care of ourselves, the circus will drive us into the ground. I’m not good
at it. I’m not going to pretend that I have the answers on how to go about it.
But next time you are running in circles and struggling to hold it all
together, and you think to yourself how much the show must go on, maybe take a
moment and realize that even the greatest performers take an intermission.
*Not for public consumption. I only mention it so you know
that if you are going through something too, you are not alone.
“Someone I loved once gave me a box full of darkness. It
took me years to understand that this too, was a gift.” –Mary Oliver
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