Letters to my daughters: RESTORE

Photo: Jez Timms @ Unsplash

My darling girls 

It's the first true day of the Christmas holidays - and we were up early again to get to your club today. It felt frustrating, didn't it, to have to be up early, as if a school day, and to not be able to lounge in your pjs as you'd like.

I know you're tired - at the end of the longest term, in the shortest of days, with the darkest of nights still putting you to bed and waking you up in the morning. I feel the same: I just want to switch off, watch telly, put my feet up. I want to snuggle close to you on the sofa, just as you want to be close to me too.

It's at this time of year I am reminded more than ever about the pace at which we exist - the speed of the day, the week, the month - whizzing past us and sweeping us up in its whirlwindish path.

The hibernating vole or tortoise knows nothing of this daily race - it responds only to its natural urges to build a nest, fatten up, then sleep. When did humanity lose this need to go slower at this time of year - to reduce its heartbeat and get ready to sleep the winter out? 

And however much I try, there are forces beyond my control that keep me racing: just finding the right email to tell me what you need to bring/provide/celebrate/perform at school is a daily marathon.

Managing the turbulence of (or resisting) the holiday expectations of others and festive traditions feels exhausting. (Its ok that I don't have a handmade wreath hanging on my door. It really is.)

And that's often before I cast my mind to what I might need in order to manage this race, this pace, this way of living: how am I doing today, and have I got the energy or motivation in the tank to meet all your many needs - surprise, designed, or otherwise?

I like it when people I work with say 'oh no let's deal with that in the new year' as it gives me permission to find a gentler pace today, and the feeling that I'm not alone in wanting to. I'm not opposed to the odd cancellation in these weeks leading up to Christmas. It reminds me that we are all trying to take a long deep breath. It's all too much; and I'm not alone in feeling that.

My nervous system was not designed for this much activity at this time of year.

***

Importantly - much as I resist this pace and often fail -  I don't want YOU to learn that to be constantly ON is the acceptable way of being. You are still so sponge-like: parroting my words and actions, mirroring my stresses and impatience.

I worry that you'll repeat the habits of a generation that require us not to question just how very active we are - especially as a mother. We were never told where the OFF button was, or given the word NO, in response to a life that feels overwhelming. And particularly at this time of year, we've never been encouraged to question whether these are the festive traditions we even want!

And so in my work, I meet women all the time who need to remind themselves, or even find for the first time, where their OFF button is. In many respects as women, we were told we were lucky we now can have it all. But I'm not sure that's something we should feel grateful for. I don't mean to argue with decades of women's liberation, but I'm not sure this pace of life is getting the best out of me. (I blame capitalism, not feminism, by the way.)

Instead, I wonder what this life would look like if we were genuinely able to ponder, plod and lag at this time of year; if we were expected to move snail-like through the winter, creeping through the cold, dawdling as we conserve our energy and spirit?

I wonder too whether this need to slow down is not simply about rest. In fact, I wonder if this time could be better used to RESTORE ourselves, filling our cups so that when we can, we are able to move at pace again in the race to keep up. I need sleep, sure. Who doesn't? But more than that - I sometimes feel like I'm missing something.

Sometimes, it's not an early night I need, but connection. Or creativity. Or challenge. Sometimes, when life feels limp, I crave a chance to learn or feel inspired. It is in part rest I need, yes, but more importantly a chance to recalibrate and replenish. I need to find my RESET button.

In fact, I've just finished my sound design course - which involved pulling some late-nighters to complete editing my final piece. Technically, I should be on my knees with exhaustion, as sleep deprived as a mother with a newborn - but weirdly, I feel more alive this month than I have felt in years. I was doing something that stretched me, gave me creative control, encouraged a state of flow. I was being restored, somehow, if not rested.

And so that explains the club today. I know you are on your last legs. You're tired, and the telly looks appealing. But I also know that you are going to really enjoy your day today: there will be laughter and movement and connections with friends. There will not be the normal timetable and constraints and rigidity of a school day. It will be nourishing and a reminder of things you love but often don't get the chance to do in the trussed-up week we have designed for ourselves during term time.

In this festive month, famously social and traditionally a coming together of family and friends (not always as welcome as it might sound), I encourage you to seek rest if you can. You look a little grey around the eyes and could do with some early nights. I'm feeling it too.

But let's also not mistake the need for rest as the greater need to restore: to connect with each other, to share cosy moments, to make and create and enjoy a process together. I welcome in those opportunities to remember that the life we are living might not fill us up in the ways we've been told to expect. (And I don't just mean fancy presents and all the trimmings.)

I want you to recognise, when you are depleted, what you need to restore your enjoyment of life, your motivation, your spark and your sparkle. I want you to know how to fill your own cup - to nourish and replenish your sights and your spirit. It might be people, or privacy, creativity or adventure. It might be a good book or some knitting, cooking or puzzles.

***

'Doing' is not necessarily a dirty word if the process of 'doing' restores you in some way. Don't depend on some outside force telling you what you need (even me!) - especially those justifying a price tag attached. (R&R seems like an expensive business these days.)

This is definitely the time of year to channel our inner-dormouse. But maybe rest is just part of how you'll restore. Only you'll know what that means to you, and you're never too young to learn about what your reset button looks like.

And question the traditions, my darlings. All of them. They can be an exhausting argument with oneself sometimes. What's a wreath for anyway - and does it really need to be handmade?

I'm looking forward to that sofa, that puzzle, that cooking. I'm looking forward to seeing people, then finding privacy and space too. I'm looking forward to watching you discover ways that you get filled up - in response to boredom or a loosening of the time. 

Happy Christmas my loves, and here's to a restorative holiday together,

Your loving Mum x