I had one of those days. Yep, you guessed it. I had a wobbly day. Right before Father’s Day too.
I was out with friends. The conversation turned, quite inexplicably, toward babies, miscarriage and mothers who had nearly lost their children in childbirth. It would have been fine if it hadn’t gone on so long. But it did go on. And on.
It would have been fine if it hadn’t gone on so long. But it did go on. Finally, the topic of discussion shifted, and I breathed a sigh of relief. But then it swerved into Father’s Day territory. I’m done, I thought. Even though I had a plate of cake in front of me and a hot cup of tea beside it, the self-care wasn’t enough. My thoughts were swirling and my emotions building. I was wobbling. I knew I had to get home before the hurricane hit.
I did a few things that day to help me cope with the wobble, so I thought I’d share them with you, starting with the obvious one:
Escape. I got outta there. I gave the conversation, and my friends, a good long while to get off that wobbly topic, but it didn’t work. That told me it was time to leave. And leaving is a legitimate way of coping. We don’t have to sit through every social situation with gritted teeth, longing for it to be over. We can choose for it to be over. So I did.
Leaving is a legitimate way of coping. Crying. You bet I cried. The sadness I had experienced during that conversation, coupled with the adrenaline of escaping, spilled over into tears. I didn’t try to fake it. I didn’t hide my feelings away. I let the dam burst. You know what? It didn’t last forever. I cried for a few minutes, and then it settled down of its own accord. Crying is a healthy way to wobble.
Connection. I debriefed with a safe person. I didn’t need problem-solving or unpacking assistance. What I needed was pure venting. I did just that. And the hug was helpful too.
Heavy-duty self-care. Obviously, a little slice of cake was not going to cut it. So I went hard. I had chocolate. I had tea. I had a super-delicious dinner. I watched TV, something funny, something beautiful, something intriguing. Each sliver of self-care chipped away at the weight of grief I was carrying. Gradually, over the course of the day, I felt lighter.
Each sliver of self-care chipped away at the weight of grief I was carrying. Rest. I parked my butt on the couch and did nothing. I gave my mind the afternoon off. No checking emails, no messaging, no social media. I gave myself permission to achieve zilch. It was exactly what I needed. The hurricane dissipated and the dust settled. By the end of the night, I felt more like myself again.
Writing. Yes, I’m blogging about it. Because it’s not just helpful to me to know what I did; it might be helpful to you too. And it makes a wobbly day seem more bearable, more worthwhile, if the experience helps someone else.
Next time you have a wobble, I hope you are able to find some safe connection, pull out the stops on your self-care, cry and escape if necessary, and find a way to recuperate afterwards. And yes, share your story with others if it helps. You never know who else might be trying to survive a wobbly day too.
How do you survive wobbly days? Do you find it helpful to talk about it, to be alone, to pray or cry or eat chocolate? Share your story. Let’s have a countercultural conversation.