I feel like I
should start to untangle the story of how I became a self-care coach for Healers.
My being-of-service
comes honestly.
Before I was
conscious of it, my grandmother was my original superhero.
She could do
it all.
When she
wasn’t making the world’s best everything as a baker in a federal bank’s
cafeteria, she cooked rock-star level meals from scratch at home.
I dare you
to make a better tea cake.
If it was Wednesday,
she went to bible study.
Sometimes on
Friday nights, she played cards with friends.
On Saturdays,
she cleaned the house, went to the farmers’ market to prepare Sunday dinner for
a small tribe. Depending on the Saturday, in the afternoon she went to choir
practice.
Sundays, she
talked to friends on the phone before Sunday School. She served in many church
leadership roles. She helped in the kitchen during special church occasions.
It was like
she never stopped moving.
My mom is
the same way.
To see my
grandmother sick and eventually pass away from cancer is a feeling without enough adequate words.
How do you
describe the guilt of coming home to visit and struggling to recognize someone
you’ve known your entire life because a disease took their fiery energy and
personality?
For a long
time I didn’t recognize what I felt was guilt.
It showed up
as grief, anger, resentment, confusion, depression, hopelessness, addictive
behaviors, a deep, deep desire to escape….
I Am fortunate
I had people around to help me fall apart and not lose myself completely to the
grief.
After my
grandmother passed away I felt a strong sense to be of service, as she had. I
saw it and still see it as a way to honor her memory and answer the Call to be
a Healer as she had.
My journey
to get to where I am now started out ugly.
I went
through feeling exhausted, resentful, needy, and taking things personally, while
I healed from addiction.
yay
I felt a
strong sense of survivor’s remorse.
I’d lost
friends to rejection, violence, chronic illness, social diseases, and severe mental
breakdown (2 friends had to be institutionalized and one friend took her own
life).
Yet here I
was alive and healthy.
For a very
long time I had no idea why I was either alive or healthy and that bothered the
hell out of me. I’m amazed I survived and remember any of my twenties.
Survivor’s
remorse felt like an odd kind of gratitude to where the sadness of the guilt
outweighed the good of the gratitude.
Surviving
and thriving messed with my head so much that, to make up for being alive, I
felt like I had to help everyone I could.
Everyone.
I had advice
on everything to make everyone’s lives better.
“Yeah, I’ll
help you with that.”
“Sure, I can
help with that project.”
“Yes, I’ll
be able to come to that meeting.”
“Absolutely,
I can do that for you.”
“No, I don’t
need help. I can do it myself.”
“I can do
this.”
“I can do
that.”
“Yes.”
"Yeah."
"Mmhhm."
“Sure.”
“Okay.”
“No problem.”
In the back
of my head I’d convinced myself I could help everyone because I remember my
grandmother helping everyone.
2 major
things happened.
1, I became
resentful, and pissy because not a lot of people were listening to all this
stellar advice I was giving them. (Pfft. The nerve.)
2, I never
got to do a lot of things I wanted because I was busy helping everyone with
their stuff and then I blamed them because I wasn’t doing what I wanted to do.
Newsflash: Neither
of these are self-empowering.
What I didn’t
realize until after I started to take better care of myself, say “no” more
often, and start to pay attention to my relationship with addiction did I come
to understand that when I made myself last I lost.
It shouldn’t
be a surprise, but how often do we make ourselves last and then we do it again
and again and again, until it becomes our habit; our addiction?
My rationale
for acting this way weakened when I realized, while my grandmother was self
reliant and did some things on her own, she had help on the things she didn’t
do on her own.
Most importantly
she ASKED for help.
A close second
to this is she had no problem asking for help.
She took
naps when she was tired.
She drank
tea in the afternoon.
She watched
soap operas when she got home from work (It was not a good idea to call when
her “stories” were on.).
She enjoyed watching Tom Baker's Dr. Who. 20 million cool points!
She said and
meant “no” when she said “no.”
She had no
problem expressing herself and living her life with passion.
She connected
strongly with Spirit and it kept her going during some potentially
soul-crushing times.
She loved
fiercely and adored babies and had some very old-school, rational advice on
raising kids.
She is a powerful
example of being of service and the balance between giving with receiving.
So I had to
let go of the guilt of not being the same level of superhero as my grandmother.
She would have
wanted me to be my own superhero.
She would
have wanted me to be passionate about what lights me up, but also rest so that
I could do the things I’m passionate about.
She would
have wanted me to be brave and have faith in myself, and respect and be proud
of myself as she was/is proud of me.
I must
remember to embrace consistent self care and let go of what isn’t serving me
and my Highest Good and to show up powerfully and honestly.
In the
following blog posts, I’ll write more on why many of us struggle with
consistent self care, habitually make ourselves last and suggests some ways to
support our healing and growth.
To find out
more about me and who I Am, visit my site mckinleycoaching.com.
