A Progressive Relaxation Exercise for Moms!

I am currently in a clinical trial that asks me to undertake a 20 minute relaxation exercise every day.  This is supposed to help with pain relief .  I have to log into an app, undertake the guided exercise and then rate how I am feeling that day. I’m wondering if the following really counts!

Begin exercise: Creep into my bedroom while everyone is watching TV. Lie deliciously on my bed.  Log into relaxation app to begin exercise.

10 seconds in:  Prompt says- “make sure you are comfortable”. I realize that sometimes I fall asleep at the end of the exercise, so decide I should clean my teeth and take nighttime medication before I begin. Press pause, clean teeth. Come back press play

30 seconds in: Realize I didn’t take the medication when I stopped to clean my teeth. Press pause. Take medication. Press play. Begin relaxation concentrating on breathing and the voice of the prompt.

2 minutes in: I am just scanning my body for signs of tension. Husband walks in- rummages around in a box and leaves again.

4 minutes in: I am just squeezing my eyes tight and releasing. Husband walks in, rummages around in box again.  Asks me a question, I answer. I think it’s a yes or no question.

 6 minutes in: Husband sits on side of bed and begins doing something. I open one eye to see what it is he is doing. He’s putting new batteries in a kids toy. He finishes and leaves. I clench my neck and release.  I “enjoy the new feeling of relaxation that seeps through my muscles.”

9 minutes in: My husband and middle son both enter the room. They begin a conversation in their normal voices.  At this point I think that perhaps they need to me to point out that I am in fact trying to do a relaxation exercise. Obviously the sight of me prone on the bed, listening to a lady with a very soothing voice telling me to clench and release my muscles is not doing the trick.  “ Oh”- they say—and leave the room. They continue their conversation outside the door.

Minutes 10- 13: I am left alone to blissfully focus on my breath and the sound of the lady’s voice.

Minute 14: My youngest son comes in.

 “Can you put me to bed mummy?”  

“After I am done here.”  I keep my eyes closed and try to focus. He stands there for a bit looking at me

“Did you get to the leg bit yet?” 

He clambers over the top of me so that he can lie on the left side of me and join in. (Why he needs to go over the top and not around is mysterious).  We progress to leg clenches and releases. Sebastian breathes in and out as instructed—doing his best impression of a windstorm as he breathes out.  His interpretation of the leg part is to lift his legs up perpendicular to his body and to grit his teeth and grunt.  As he releases his right leg he flops it on top of my body.

Minute 17: We work on clenching and releasing the muscles in our feet and continue to focus on our breath.  We breathe in and out. Me quietly. Sebastian with big puffs.

Minute 19: We do a final scan of our body for any remaining tension. How could there be any tension left in my body after such a relaxing and quiet 20 minutes?

Minute 20:  We are instructed that “when we are ready we can open our eyes with a soft gaze” Immediately Sebastian uses his fingers to pry open my eyes.

“Can you read me a story NOW mummy?”

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Who can resist this guy?

I want to say my family is usually very supportive of the 100 types of therapy that I am currently undertaking- and let me take endless naps to take care of my messed up brain. I thought this would strike a chord for many moms who are less able to find a quiet moment.