Just Call Me Gumby

A patient of mine said to me the other day “Wow—you do so much, it is amazing. How do you it?”

I was taken aback because I didn’t have an answer. So I thought about it—how do I do it? Am I doing it “right”?

This is my life: Everyone’s pulling me from the moment I wake up to that blissful moment I drift off to sleep.

Even while I sleep I think I hear phantom “Mommy I need…”

I’m sure many of you can commiserate when I say this: Everyone around me needs or wants something. There is no point in making a distinction between the two—whether it is a true need or a want—they’re pulling me into it.

These people are my children, my family, my patients, my friends. I’m making no distinction between those that pay me a salary for my work, or those that I chose to bring into this world to raise.

I make no distinction because right now, to me, they are all stretching me thin. And not the good kind of thin, mind you.

“Mommy send a text please to Sara’s mom for a playdate this afternoon.”

“Mom I need this baseball shirt for tonight’s game or there’s no way I can play!”

“Mom our Italian group has to make cannolis for international night so everyone is coming over tomorrow to bake and you need to get these ingredients.”

“Honey, can you get the dogs up to date on their vaccinations.”

“Annie can you call me in a script for these eyedrops I like?”

“Dr. Negrin can you come in for this emergency even though you are off today?”

“Honey, one of the dogs pooped in the living room—please get that carpet cleaner from the store before you go to work?”

I know you all get it. Especially if you’re the mom. Double that if you’re a working mom.

Oh—and if you’re lucky enough to still have your parents around, you are being pulled in that direction too. Suddenly those who took care of you need some taking care of.

Who coined it the sandwich generation? I think it’s the gumby generation.

Pulling me here, then pulling me there—consistent pulling until I realize I am not only all over the place, I am not rooted anywhere. I mean that I’ve lost my base. No base position to recalibrate, recuperate, renew.

This happens at least every couple of weeks.

Without my base, the day whirls by in all this activity that leaves me physically exhausted and emotionally drained. I text the wrong person for the playdate, I buy the wrong sports shirt, I forget the ingredients to buy, or even worse I treat someone less kindly than I would have liked.

Gumby = Not your best self

So, where is my base in this Gumbyland? It’s finding time for myself above everyone else. I really mean above the kids, above the patients, above the parents.

Blasphemy you say? Sorry but it’s true.

I’ve come to realize that the only way to get my ME time is to schedule it into my calendar and treat it like a work meeting.

Don’t we schedule time to give our kids medicine, take them to their tutor, figure out the carpool situation for baseball?

I don’t care what you do with your “me” time— stare out the window, go for a walk with the dogs, get a massage, or to sit on the couch and mindlessly go through the channels. Whatever works for you!

Now I wouldn’t dream of skipping an important work meeting set in my calendar—why would I dream of skipping out on myself?

You get my drift—us Gumby’s need to make ourselves a natural priority every day. That way we strengthen what we are made of—and the pullers around us won’t be able to stretch us so thin.

Remember the flight attendant’s instructions to put the parent’s oxygen mask on before the child’s? This is kind of like that—make time for yourself or you will end up being less than to everyone else who needs you.

The only other alternative is to keep being stretched and feel like this all of the time.