My daughter must have been tiptoeing towards adolescence when I started telling her the oxygen mask story. She is seventeen now, and I only have to repeat it twice a year or so. But the other day, I was reminded, during a meeting of my peers, as I tried to share and explain the humble selfishness I try to practice in my day to day. When you ride on an airplane, you are always instructed on the use of your oxygen masks, dropping from the ceiling, elastic band wrapped round your head, you know the drill. When I was a young mother, I wasn't alone in my protests, while discussing later the flight attendant insistance that parents place oxygen masks on themselves before their children. The instinct of a parent is to protect our children, even if it means risking our own well being. Of course we all know, we need to be breathing, in order to take care of a child nearby.
As children grow into young adults, boundaries are tested. Before long, the oxygen mask scenario was a staple in most of my lectures about my needing a break, time to myself, a life! I would always tell her, "I have to put the oxygen mask on myself first!" She claimed to get it, sometimes.
As it turns out, my daughter is not the only person that I find myself enlightening about my need for oxygen and theirs as well. The most recent was a meeting of women, arms full and out of breath, one with a child in tow, until finally all were gathered at a large table, having just barely made time for what is an indulgence for all of us. We apologize to husbands, we arrive late and leave early. Did I say we? Maybe not me. This is some of my oxygen. I need it and I take it.
The better I breathe, the longer I'll live. The more I grow, the wider my wing span. So I teasingly harass my friends and encourage them to demand more of their own time, their own day! I am a single mother, I try to make a living from home, I volunteer. I am available when friends and family call. But I put me first. I say no. I slip up now and then and take on a little too much, but I can usually undo that pretty quickly.
Get a manicure. Take a bath. Go have coffee and spend hours reading a magazine. Get a sitter. Go to the movies. Order pizza. Buy a blouse that costs too much. Sleep in. Make time. You will smile brighter and laugh louder. You will love life and the people in it.
Coincidentally, I once compared affection to oxygen. We need it. It helps us thrive.
Breathe.
