I have a confession to make… I’m terrible at self care.
Oh don’t get me wrong, I know what self care is supposed to look like, I just have trouble getting myself to do it.
For many years, I never considered it at all. I was busy with classes, studying, hanging out with friends and shopping at the mall Yes, the mall was a thing in the 1990’s.
Shortly after graduating, I got married, completed my internship and before I knew it I had a baby on the way. Baby’s tend to suck a lot out of you, and mine sure did! Between diaper changes and late night feedings that continued straight from baby 1 to baby 2 to finally baby 3, I lost any prior identity I had and became, “just a stay at home mom”.
By the time my youngest was 3 or 4 years old, I was in a serious self care deficit. I had hit self care rock bottom. I knew I needed some but how? Bubble baths and massages were about as close to my grasp as the moon.
I had a litany of excuses all lined up too, maybe you see yourself in some of these:
Excuse number 1: There wasn’t enough time: How could I ever get everything done (the shopping, cooking, feeding, cleaning, caring for and chasing after small humans and the laundry- the piles and piles of endless laundry) and have time left over to spend on myself?
Excuse number 2: Self care isn’t productive. It was hard to see an immediate return on my investment, so to speak. There were so many other things that needed to be done and there was alway at least a small amount of satisfaction from a neatly folded mountain of laundry.
Excuse number 3: Since self care wasn’t productive, I reasoned it was selfish. Who was I to think that I deserved time to be spent on just me? Plus, my family would starve. So, there was that.
But the biggest excuse, the one that really blocked me was, a four letter word called, FEAR.
I wasn’t afraid of self care, but rather, I was afraid of what it would mean about me. I also feared that I would spend time on self care and it would never be enough. I would be a bottomless self care pit. This would in turn, reinforce the idea that I am selfish and then my family would be neglected.
I was afraid self care would not help me be a better version of myself, but rather it would turn me into a greedy monster that did nothing but stare into the abyss, and schedule a biweekly manicure.
The fear and internalized messages were not logical – I had no problem with anyone else doing those things, but I was special. I shouldn’t have any needs whatsoever… especially, self care. I should be Mother Theresa but better. Needs? Those are for mere mortals.
Recently, I was truly reaching the point of burnout. For me, burnout tastes like bitterness, sounds like a drunken sailor and looks like a mix between a hyperactive toddler and a completely unmotivated teenager. My poor family was quarantined with a maniac. It was ugly.
I needed to tackle this self care thing once and for all or spiral down the rabbit hole.
As my coach helped me bring this fear into the light, I saw how irrational and absurd it was, but I was still afraid. The fear kept me stuck and from really giving self care a try.
In the past, my feeble attempts at self care were based on bargaining and faulty logic. I made self care a “should”. I reasoned, “I should spend time on self care, so let me kill 2 birds with one stone and use my workout time as self care.” And, since we were bargaining, doesn’t spending a good hour or so scrolling on social media every day and/or reading until I fall asleep count as self care? Ummmm, yea, no – not exactly.
This time, with the sure handed guidance of my coach, we created an action plan for self care. It had to be something I enjoyed, it had to be intentional, it had to have no specific amount of productivity linked to it and I had to start small.
It took me a few minutes to even think of something that I enjoyed, but wasn’t a “should” either. Scrolling Facebook is not intentional, (you probably knew that). With a bit of sweat and effort, I remembered drawing was something I used to enjoy as a kid. Bingo! I would spend 10 minutes on drawing, 3 times a week.
By starting small, my coach assured me that I could learn to trust in the process and start to see some benefits to taking time to recharge my batteries.
So, if you are like me, and have trouble with self care, I hope you can begin to give it a try and take 1 tiny baby step. I don’t have proof yet, but I’m pretty sure the laundry will still get done, my family won’t starve and I’m a fairly long way off from becoming a self care junky – but there is a lot of room for improvement between here and there.
Follow up with me next month, as I let you know how my self care journey is going!