Honor Your Zing

Honor Your Zing

As a mama it’s easy to lose your zing. Your identity can slowly morph into this responsible, manner checking, poop-tracking, laundry chasing, errand running being right before your eyes, yet totally under the radar, until you look into the mirror one day and wonder who that face looking back at you is.

You love this woman dearly. You do. It’s just that you miss pieces of the one she may have replaced.

Where is that carefree undivided feeling I used to have? The one that is only identifiable now that it has passed, not visible then – taken for granted in the moment.

There are times when your reserve runs low. Your self is all spent up and dished out and you need a charge. The beauty is, I find it often takes very little charge to restore. It seems our standards for recharging magically shift as we transition from woman to mother. The tragedy is it’s often too infrequent that we allow ourselves the opportunity to replenish and a dead battery offers no spark.

I think we all need something. We need at least one thing that draws from our past identity – our passions, our freedom…something that wakes us. Something that reminds us that we too are individuals with needs and voices and layers, aside from all others we dish our hearts to.

I have dance. Dance is my antidote.

There may be no feeling as free as that of moving at the edge of my limits expressing one that lives inside. With music consuming the studio, my mind and my body, I feel capable – free of doubt, inhibition, anxiety, to-dos, didn’t dos, what-the-heck-will-I-dos…

I feel alive. Obstacles feel attainable. Ambiguity begins to take form.

I am more confident in this place than most others. It’s one of the very few places, if not the only, where I am able to completely break through the barrier, that film – no matter how thin it may be – positioned just in front of me that prevents me from fully offering myself. There is no holding back my potential or juggling of perceived judgment or insecurity.

When I surface from that place for a moment, heart pounding as we transition to another song, I glance around me to take in the sea full of faces that appear to be feeling some version of the same.

Like a room full of seasoned back-up dancers, mamas of all ages, shapes, sizes and walks are owning their 5’x5′ piece of the hardwood floor. They are on fire. Their bodies are strong. They are beautiful, youthful, and sensual. They embrace every curve and crevice. They are seen and heard and unapologetic. They return to their families, their jobs, and their roles with an easy breath and a secret little flame inside.

That occasional one hour in time is a rare opportunity to release a very real part of myself that fills me so full, I leave twice the woman I arrived as. I walk taller with a strong confident smile and the ability to breathe deeply.

It may be running, writing, singing, capturing images through the lens, yoga, painting, learning, playing an instrument…you know what it is for YOU. Carve a little slice now and then. You can’t dish others from an empty plate.

I’d love to hear what you do to recharge and how it changes you. Leave a comment below if you care to share…

Cheers,
J

Comments

  1. Dancing lets my gypsy out…….and soaking in the sun recharges me , nanni-mom (love the post)

  2. Usually doing something creative recharges me. Writing. Sewing. Scrapbooking. Crafting. But I do struggle with keeping the charge at 100%. It seems my battery is comparable to an old iphone that needs to be plugged in several times a day.

Trackbacks

  1. Proud Mary says:

    […] I know the dances by heart. I like to look around me and take in the scene. Like a room full of seasoned back-up dancers, mamas of all ages, shapes, sizes and walks are owning their 5’x5′ piece of the hardwood floor. They are on fire. Their bodies are strong. They are beautiful, youthful, and sensual. They embrace every curve and crevice. They are seen and heard and unapologetic. They return to their families, their jobs, and their roles with an easy breath and a secret little flame inside. They are honoring their zing. […]

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