I love the definition of self-care that says, “do what makes you feel like a person”. I think the Lazy Genius defined it that way. There is much advice out there these days about what self-care looks like, how much of it we need, and the continual wrestling of Christian believers about whether self-care is even holy or right. Here’s what I know: I birthed six children over thirteen years, nursed my kids for a collective grand total of over 10 years, and homeschooled during this. I have a child with special needs and another with several learning disabilities. We have one income. I need self-care.
Our puzzles are all different, but caring for yourself when you are a full-time caregiver is a must. If you are in a profession or a lifestyle that asks you to continually pour out your body, soul, and spirit, you have to find ways to replenish. Your well empties. Burnout is real. It’s important to brush your teeth, get a mammogram, get a hair trim, have a bra that fits. Self-care looks like limiting your screen time, getting some solid sleep, drinking water. We aren’t speaking of grandiose ideals that require much money, time, and travel. Simple practices that keep our human bodies and souls alive, active, and nourished. These are the basics.
After I take care of those self-care basics, then I can name the things that make me feel like myself. Reading novels. Taking evening showers. Walking. Taking a trip. Watching a TV show as a family. Eating a delicious meal surrounded by beauty. Hosting people on my back deck. Decorating a vignette. These are small things that bring me joy and replenishment. We all have different lists that bring us joy and life, and as we approach summer, a typically slower season of the year, might you ask, “What makes me feel like myself?” Sometimes we try to operate off of someone else’s list or some good idea we heard on an Instagram story or a podcast, but we are all unique with interesting desires, expressions, and tastes.
As we come away from an exhausting pandemic year coupled with the end of school, I think it’s lovely to write down a few things for ourselves that bring out the best in us. A June playlist of sorts. How do you want to play? It’s hard for me to give myself permission to play. I think I have to earn it or complete a certain amount of tasks first or make sure that it has some kind of profitable outcome. But couldn’t we play and feel like a person simply because of the Grace that we are alive? Could we feel the delight of our Father on us as we rest into being playful, silly, light? Is that available to us, even as older adults? I think it is.
Off to watch my boys swim,
Aimee
This, this, this! Say it louder for the people in the back! I heartily second this whole post. It's so necessary, and so hard to learn. And I wish I had learned it sooner.