Living in the Pacific Northwest means there’s an almost constant sky full of clouds overhead- especially during the winter months. This kind of lighting is fantastic for pro photographers, but not so fantastic for the brain.
When I look up at a gray sky, there is often not even a break between the clouds, let alone the silver linings of separate clouds. My mother fondly likens it to living under a Tupperware bowl.
I grew up in the Rocky Mountains. The weather was so changeable that on any given day we could have a couple hours of sunny, 65-degree weather, and then in short succession a thunderstorm finishing in hail or snow, and then the sun would come back out, and within the hour it would be sunny and 60-degrees again. I’m used to watching the sky and seeing things happen. So I know what a “silver lining” is. I grew up hearing and saying the expression regularly. But they just don’t happen for me anymore. I no longer look for the silver linings. I look for the “blue spaces”.
When the sky is gray two-thirds of the year, even a sliver of blue sky can give you a surge of endorphins. It’s no joke. If there’s even a short break in the weather and you look out your window and see a slice of blue sky, or you notice the light changing in your home and know the sun is momentarily peeking it’s head out somewhere nearby, you all but run out the door as fast as you can to partake in it. No matter the temperature, you pull up your sleeves and soak it in; especially as a mother. It’s like full-on, naps-be-damned, get those boots on and let’s go! Come swampy field or wet playground equipment, you and your kids are getting outside. It’s an absolute must. And in those moments of sunshine––living and playing in the blue spaces––you are able to recharge and feel hope that the sun will come out again.
The sun rises each morning. I know that. I have faith that it will always rise. But there’s a distinct difference between sensing it’s there behind the clouds and actually feeling it’s warm kiss on your skin.
There is a tangible feeling of unrest almost everywhere we turn. I found myself getting really bogged down in all the social media mire. I was spending way too much time online; researching, responding, finding ways to advocate or help, and getting sucked into the yuckiness of online trolls and media fearmongering. I was staying up later and was tired and moody in the morning, and my husband and kids were definitely responding in-kind. As women and mothers, we tend to be the thermometer of our families, so when I start feeling like everyone around me is acting crazy, chances are I need to take a time-out and turn inwards.
My “aha moment” happened while on the phone with my mom (surprise). The conversation turned towards current events and she added, “By the way, you need to back it way up on Facebook.” My first reaction was, “But isn’t what I’m sharing true and insightful and meaningful?” To which she replied, “Just share a recipe or something, for Pete’s sake.”
I realized that her children and grandchildren were her main reason for being on social media, and if all I was doing was adding to the noise, it was taking away a little bit of her blue sky. Although I will still not be sharing recipes anytime soon, stepping away from social media was the first blue sky moment for me in a while.
The second step towards finding my blue sky was tuning-in to my inner-voice. After I shut out some of the loudest voices (news, social media), I was able to hear some of the quieter voices: good books, prayer and meditation, my body and intuition. I started a moon journal, found an approachable online yoga practice, and started some massive self-care in the form of setting myself a bedtime and wake-up time. Even mother’s sometimes need to mother themselves.
I suffer from a mixture of anxiety and depression, and the winter months are really hard. As a sleep-deprived mom, things can compound quickly, and you will sometimes find me assuming the fetal position in a dark corner; sometimes mentally, sometimes physically. Often it takes a jolt- such as the conversation with my mother- to alert me that I’m in a negative cycle. That little burst of sunshine through the clouds changes my perspective and I see that a change is needed. Once this happens, I can start evaluating and mentally separating the things I have control over from the things I don’t. It helps to make an actual list.
Once the list is made, I give myself the gift of empathy for feeling so deeply about things I have no control over, and then choose to let them go and move forward. This allows me to shift my focus to the things I do have control over, and I find ways to proactively help or combat them. Some items have easy solutions (get an alarm clock), some are harder (committing to a daily yoga practice while working around the schedules of a busy husband and two kids under five), and some of them take massive amounts of work (re-training my brain towards gratitude and kind thoughts about myself).
Focusing on the things I have control over is similar to spotting the blue spaces in that massive gray sky. They appear right when I need to see them the most. And they bring such hope.
It has been about a month since the conversation with my mother and the new routine is taking hold. Honestly, some days I just have to record that I couldn’t make the yoga happen or that I stayed up past my bedtime and paid for it the next day. However, I’m remaining accountable to myself and focusing on the blue sky moments, which is the key.
One of my favorite quotes says “showing up is 80 percent of life“.* I truly believe that. So when those slices of blue sky start breaking out of the clouds, you better believe I’m going to get outside, show up, and stand in the sun.
*Attributed to Woody Allen
CeeMarieMargaret 