Yesterday as I was sobbing in my therapist’s office she asked me this question: what comforts you?
It stopped me in my tracks. I couldn’t think of an answer, not right away.
Then the ideas started flowing… my bed… romantic comedies… soft sheets… luxurious pajamas… scented baths… good wine… time with friends…
And you know what? I stopped crying, and then bought myself a teddy bear.
My boys were ecstatic. We had story time with our three bears. I was thrilled; a comfort buy just for me, by me. And then I cleaned my room.
Last night, I resurrected date night. Just for me.
I did this when I was last single, ten years ago, because I’m an introverted extrovert and if I’m not careful I’ll end up over-involved and cranky, because I really do need my alone time to recharge.
It was every Tuesday night. I watched Gilmore Girls and maybe took a bath. It wasn’t anything crazy but it was mine and I loved it.
Where did that woman go? I lost her.
But she’s back. Tonight I dressed myself up and put on lipstick, allfor me. My friend called me “swanky” and was surprised to hear I was going out by myself. I headed to our local art museum–small but with some good pieces–and spent twenty minutes, relaxed in a leather chair, looked at a series of self-portraits that blew my mind. What a nice surprise.
I wasn’t worried about anyone but me and the art.
Then I sat in the courtyard, thinking about the evening sun, and the waterfall sculpture, and whatever floated into my mind.
Then I treated myself to ice cream. I sat at a round table, on one of two stools, flickering candlelight before me. I savored every bite of my dark chocolate and pear Riesling ice cream. When I was done, I hopped in my minivan and picked up the kids.
I loved my date night. I need to grieve my marriage and court myself.
What do you do to bring yourself comfort?