Welcome to SuperStep 3: Letting In. The Third of Five SuperSteps in the Everyday Superhero Method! (Here are the the First SuperStep and the Second SuperStep.)
Christmas, a four-letter word
December 2009
The sleigh bells jingled against the front door. They left. I couldn’t.
I lay in bed, unable to move. Sharp hammers of pain pierce through my eye socket. My body shivers cold, covered in blankets. A couple minutes prior, it was uncovered, covered in sweat. A couple minutes before, it was laying on the bathroom floor, gripping the toilet like a safety bar on a rollercoaster.
Migraine.
I get them about once a month. It’s been this way since I was a teen. Unfortunately, there are periods where I get them more often, like around Christmas. And as a mom.
I missed my kids’ preschool music party. Tears run down my cheeks. I let them down.
And I’m messing up my…
It’s-gonna-be-a-Perfect-Christmas List:
- 300-page annual Grandkid photo album? Check.
- 12 loaves of Cranberry Apple bread? Check.
- Food and presents for six preschool parties? In progress.
- Church Nativity Play. Ugh.
- 200 Candy cane reindeers? Well…I let my three-year-old help. Fixing cyclops reindeers soon.
- All the usual decorating and shopping and baking and cleaning and wrapping and coffee and volunteering and crying in bathroom stalls…
My heart and head pound like the Kentucky Derby start line.
After two more trips to the bathroom, I am back in bed with a cold rag on my forehead. I close my eyes and picture my goal: January first.
I’m laying in a quiet winter woodland, with the snow blanketing my body in a soft sheet of glittery peace. I have nothing to do but breathe the cold, crisp air.
The Battle Begins
“Excuse me? I hate to interrupt, but you should use this extra time to make the Christmas cut out cookies!” Traditional Heidi jabs me with her pointed words. Who is Traditional Heidi? Lemme explain.
Imagine me with a miniature llama on each of my shoulders. The first is a miniature beige llama. She wears a 1950s housewife apron, has salon-perfect hair, and red glossy fingernails. She carries with her a dust mop, a well-behaved child on one hip, and to-do lists. This is Traditional Heidi. Traditional Heidi’s words layer on like thick frosting, with resentment and sarcasm. She likes waggling her finger at people and muttering things under her breath.
On my other shoulder stands a miniature rainbow-colored llama. She has long blonde dreads and a Holly Hobby patchwork skirt. She is Feminist Heidi. She comes with a bow and arrow, a couple of pom-poms, and a journal. Her eyes glow wild, confident, mischievous. She is herself unto no one. She gets enough sleep, and she is unafraid to speak her truth.
“You need to rest. This is your third holiday migraine…” Feminist Heidi warns.
“Your migraine is a PAIN, but you can operate a mixer. Your medicine only warns against heavy machinery,” Traditional Heidi puffs out her chest.
“But I don’t even LIKE cut out cookies,” Feminist Heidi whines.
“That’s no excuse. It’s not Christmas without them. Remember your childhood?” Traditional Heidi says while pinning on her Christmas brooch-of-the-day.
“Yes, it was a special time. You know what I liked most about Christmas growing up? Doing my homework behind the tree, surrounded by bubble lights and ornaments…” Feminist Heidi sighs, a broad smile spreading across her face, lost in her reverie…
Sharp as a needle, Traditional Heidi’s voice pricks the air.
“Focus, woman. You got perfect grades with that homework. Now, Perfect Christmas is up to you.”
I open my eyes and think of my It’s-Gonna-Be-A-Perfect-Christmas List. A little more rest, and I’ll get in the kitchen.
October First, three years later.
In the kitchen of my post-divorce duplex, I turn the page of my National Parks wall calendar. A picture of a buffalo on a snow-dusted prairie meets my gaze. My heart pounds and a knot forms in my lower back. Only three months until PAIN. Oh, sorry, I mean Christmas.
I sit down at the kitchen table. What am I going to do about Christmas? I work full time. My ex spews hate at me. My nannies are unreliable. I don’t even have extra money to overcompensate for less homemade stuff. I stare at the buffalo.
Treat yourself as a friend echos in my mind. In a friendly deep tone, like the calendar buffalo said it.
In reality, somebody said that in my Codependents Anonymous meeting this week. What does that mean? First, think about what you’re doing and saying to yourself. Second, step to the side of all that mind chatter and ask yourself “how would a friend respond to what I said?” Then do that. The goal is I learn to treat myself as a friend.
What would a friend say to my Christmas dilemma?
I have to do less so I don’t get migraines? Or I need to figure out how to not hate the last third of every year? Or that Perfect Christmas is a f*cking impossible goal, and she would hand me a drink?
Yep, you got it, sister, that friendly-Buffalo voice chimes back in in my head. Thanks, Mr. Buffalo. I’ll try to do something to not hate Christmas this year.
I get a sharpie and make a little word bubble on the calendar. I step back and look at Mr. Buffalo speaking his wisdom, “Treat yourself as a friend.” I smile a broad smile.
SuperStep 3: Letting In Quote
You can only open new doors after you decide to shut others. Because, honey, you ain’t gonna be honest with yourself until you stop believing the lies. And you definitely won’t put the whip down until you realize it’s in your hand.
Heidi Esther
The SoulJourner QUESTion
Listening, honesty, kindness, responsibility. Four of the pieces in SuperStep Three of the Everyday Superhero Method. For today, let’s focus on kindness.
SuperStep 3 Exercise: Treat Yourself as a Friend.
The next time you feel that inner struggle. That guilt. That tensing of your shoulders. That knot in your stomach. That “I have to” or “I should…” or “I can grit through this…” language come up. Stop.
- Take a break. Breathe 4 deep breaths. Or take a quick walk.
- Notice how you felt in your body before and after. When you feel a little looser, move onto the next step.
- Write down what you feel you have to do on one side of the paper.
- On the other side, write down what you will give up to do that thing. (For example: sleep/down time/dinner/your weekend)
- Below those two answers, write down the answer to one of these questions: “How would my friend respond if I told them this dilemma? What would they say?” OR “What if my best friend told me this, what would I suggest they do?”
GOAL: Over time, Beautiful Soul, you will realize that YOU are worth feeling good. You are worth all the time you need to feel fabulous, even! If, for no one else, yourself. And that’s not selfish, it’s how you become the Superhero of your Everyday. Realizing that you f*cking matter. Even more than Christmas.
Before the Everyday Superhero Course and book come out, how can you work on SuperStep 3? Stories tagged with SuperStep 3 highlight a small piece of the Letting In method. Search for SuperStep 3 on the homepage!
Overview of the Everyday Superhero Method
SuperStep 1 of 5: Three Legs of Support
SuperStep 2 of 5: Waking Up & Letting Go
SuperStep 3 of 5: Letting In
SuperStep 4 of 5: Moving Forward
SuperStep 5 of 5: Getting Stronger
