That is what they tell you on airplanes, put your own oxygen mask on first before attempting to help others. So simple, so singularly profound, yet treated dismissively when one is not on a plane. Reaching for your own oxygen mask in life is interpreted as weak, selfish, egocentric, needy, I don’t need to go on – you get the picture. Somewhere, somehow it has been communicated to us that to be “good” people, we must neglect our own person, be strangers to our own heart and soul.
For the first two years after Justin’s death, our oxygen masks dangled beside us, every once in a while we grabbed it and sucked in air, but never for long, never deep enough to touch the bottom of our lungs. I place no blame or responsibility on anyone other than myself. It took a very wise and courageous father, himself a bereaved dad, and now an incredible advocate for bereaved parents, to tell us that we had suffered a trauma. Tears started to run down my face, he went on to say that as bereaved parents we had and will have needs, needs that need to be acknowledged and nurtured by us. Now I understand what he was saying, at first you have no idea what you need, except for the suffocating pain to go away. Oxygen, we needed oxygen. And to grab our own masks, that meant we needed to let go of what was already in our hands so that we could put on our oxygen masks and breathe. It was a hard lesson and went against my understanding of how we were supposed to live without any thought for self, or our own needs, much less desires. We have been inculcated to believe that “being” is wrong, we must be “doing.” We have been taught that we will be measured by our productivity and output.
I learned how to put the oxygen mask on and just breathe, but it has been a struggle. My wise brother had shared with me the importance of doing what is good for me, and by being good to me, I was being good to everyone around me. I was a slow learner. I had to stop and examine moments and ask myself “is this good for me?” Tending the tomatoes in the garden is very good for me. The smell of mulch is good for me. Allowing the calendar to fill up every day, very bad for me. I learned to say no to even good things, fun things, because they ceased to be good if I became overspent, overtired, if my buckets got empty. It is a balance, what things restore my oxygen, what fills my lungs to their very bottom so that there can be a life giving exchange of air?
Hard questions. Hard questions demand honesty. I find that when I am good to me, I am able to love generously. We are to love our neighbor as our self, Jesus said that – I didn’t. I continue to ask what is loving myself? How can I nurture someone else if I haven’t a clue what restores peace and harmony in my own soul? I can’t, I simply become empty.
I am learning what my oxygen mask looks like, what is restorative, what brings that clean life saving air down to the bottom of my lungs. What are those moments that expand my lungs so much so, that there is more than enough oxygen to share, that life spills over the reservoir walls and gives of itself to those around me joyfully and authentically.
We are about 4 and a half in grief years, four year old’s still need much rest. I am frequently reminded and just as frequently frustrated with how much oxygen I need. When the brain is starved for oxygen, we become anxious. I have to stop and recollect, did I breathe today? How quick the supply becomes depleted. As Justin’s 30th birthday looms closer, I catch myself shallow breathing, trying to dodge the fist that clenches my heart and lungs. I find myself writing in my affirmation journal to “grab your own oxygen mask first.” I write it three times on a fresh page, once was not enough, twice was good, three felt better. And breathe, all I have to do is breathe.
Be good to you today.
Love, Terri
Wise words….