Last week I had a very frustrating experience. There was a special speaker coming to the preschool where I work to discuss self-regulation and sensory processing—how kids take in the world around them, regulate their emotions (or don’t). This relates to my masters in applied physiology and nutrition, as well as my certification in yoga, so I was deadset on taking the two tots I watch during the early hours of preschool to attend this talk.
One of the tots was not feeling well that day and was being quite loud and unhappy. We therefore had to leave the talk. That tot was my daughter.
I had considered leaving her with my husband while I attended the talk with the one tot, but I felt bad so I took her with me. Boy did that blow up in my face! I was missing the most interesting talk of the season!
I was so angry. So frustrated. Finally a piece of my former, pre-mom life was visiting, something that I could integrate both into my current identity as a preschool teacher and into my more longstanding identity as a nutritionist and fitness professional. And now it was gone!
Or not—I called up my husband and insisted that he come and watch my precious little one so I could go hear at least the end of the talk. Plus, after the talk, I planned to go up to the speaker, an experienced as well as exuberant OT, and introduce myself to her and ask more about the link between yoga and self-regulation.
Thankfully, once my husband arrived I was able to catch the end of the talk and chat with her a bit. We really hit it off, since she also has a wide variety of passions and hobbies—including dance and nutrition—which we bonded on.
I made my professional contact. I was heard. I was seen.
I was connecting to the part of myself I had worked pretty much my whole life to obtain.
I felt alive. I felt at home. I felt whole.