Upon arrival at this new hotel at the beach, my “mini-me” and I debated about who would get to sleep outside on the patio facing the ocean. The breeze and the lapping of the waves on the shore, combined with the cute little body-sized sofa made it perfectly enticing to the free-spirited two of us. The balcony for the win! Clearly he won.
In more ways than one.
What originally seemed like such a fabulous and fun idea, didn’t feel quite the same at 10pm, when I saw my precious baby falling asleep on a 9th floor balcony. The drums at the beachfront bar were beating wildly and my mama heart-felt a twinge of fear. What if he sleep walks? What if he sleep climbs?! Then it was the humidity and the sweat shimmering on his brow. He might overheat. Then the mosquitos arrived and I spent the next 45 minutes frantically searching for the essential oil bug spray, we so lovingly made before the trip. I found it, doused his sleeping body, and then fell into my bed at midnight, ready to drift off to sleep.
To no avail.
I laid there wide awake. The beating of my heart began to match that drumbeat by the water. My mind was reeling, frantic with all the possible bad outcomes of letting my baby sleep outside those closed doors. Everything from death-by-west-nile to falling to his fate. I’ll spare you all the in-between. It would have been so easy to just go pick up his limp body and place him gently (& safely) in his bed.
But I couldn’t.
This was his big adventure. This is the moment he’d been waiting for and he was so proud. This kind of oneness with nature is what his little heart craves and I needed to let him experience it. I prayed for safety for him and peace for myself. Just as I was finally beginning to nod off I heard the sliding of the big, heavy door from the patio. There he stood, with his lovies and blanket in hand, ready to climb into the crisp cold sheets of the bed.
Finally, we were all safe together and drifting off to sleep.
What’s unusual about this story is that ordinarily, I’m the adventure seeker and the ones who love me are left in the balance with the worry. As I laid there worrying about my baby, I gained a new empathy for the ones who’ve worried about me over the years. The anxiety of a frantic mind, making up all kinds of The Stories We Tell Ourselves set in thick.
I had to practice what we preach around my house.
What is the truth? What is made up in my head? What is the need? What feelings/beliefs/anxieties, do I need to manage within myself to allow that need to be met?
Is there an area of your life you’re allowing fear to hold you back?
Maybe today is the day to look a little closer at the stories you’re telling yourself in those circumstances. Are they entirely true or have you embellished on them in your head?
They might turn out to be true or they might turn out to be completely false.
Either way, if you can begin to notice them and live in the present with the stories you know to be true right now and let go of the rest, you’ll discover more peace. You might even be able to drift off to sleep a little easier tonight.
It’s certainly easier said than done.
But the only way it will happen at all is if you try.
to more love,
P.S. If you’d like a little more support on this topic, it’s the basis of Scott’s entire book, The Stories We Tell Ourselves. Check it out, you’ll be glad you did.