Somewhere in my childhood I developed the idea that if I did everything, “right,” meaning I brushed my teeth, did good in school and was generally nice to everyone, life would respond in kind.
Boy was I wrong.
And wrong. And wrong again.
All I garnered from those years of waiting were buckets of disappointment, heartache and resentment.
In fact, you were given this amazing gift for a purpose. To use it. To experiment with it. To discover your truest self and with it your reason for being here. Maybe it was to play or learn how to dance. Maybe it was so that you could light someone up, remind them that they’re loved or be in the world in a way that no one has ever spoke, sung or painted about it before.
But you won’t get that if you keep expecting it to change. If you keep praying for things to turn out the way you want it too.
I finally learned that in order for things to change, I had to change.
And I didn’t have to change externally, I had to change the way I perceived my experience. I had to do a 360 on the one area I had total control over-how I cared for myself.
To do that, you need to believe you matter in the world. You need to love yourself. And you need to quiet all those voices that tell you self-care is self-indulgent or selfish or at best unnecessary.
Because the quest for taking care of yourself comes with a lot of baggage. It comes with shame and guilt, and self-blame. And there’s not a lot of glamour in self-care. I’m talking real self-care not just getting your nails done or going to the spa. I’m talking about sticking up for yourself, saying what you mean and doing the thing you know inside our heart that you need to do to be happy, feel safe, and be well.
This kind of self-care is scrappy. It’s mundane. It’s even a bit scary.
It’s about going to sleep early. It’s quitting the job or people who hurt your soul. It’s standing up for yourself regardless of the shame and guilt you might feel after. It’s moving to the place that you know lights you up. It’s firing that doctor who never listened to you. It’s being alone when you hate being alone because you know being with someone for the sake of a warm body is unworthy of you.
It’s saying, “No.”
It’s not allowing other people tell you what you know in your heart feels true.
It’s not allowing the guy who cut you off or the girl who rolled her eyes at you matter more than what you think of yourself.
It’s about forgiving others, but mostly yourself.
It’s acknowledging that you can be all kinds of ugly, angry, bitchy, unkind, shady, complainy, flaky and still be a good person with a loving heart that deserves all the good things.
Self-care is accepting all of it and your illnesses too.
It’s loving yourself for who you are in this moment and doing whatever you can to protect that you. It means accepting your limitations, failures, and inability to do anything, but breathe.
It’s saying it’s okay that I’m not doing crap. It’s okay that all I can do is lie down here while my kids are outside. I haven’t showered. My life is full of doctor’s appointments. And everyone else’s Instagram stories are better than mine.
It’s saying I love you. You’re going to get through this and none of that matters anyway.
Let me say that again.
None of that matters.
You know what matters?
Love. Truth. Presence. Gratitude. Self-care.
I’ve been reading The Little Book of Self-Care for Leo by Constance Stellas. It’s full of tiny chapters of things I can do to love on myself based on my horoscope. Funny it says: “while getting Leo to practice self-care can be difficult, once he’s started, it’s tough to get Leo to stop.”
It’s mostly things that don’t belong on a to-do list because it’s not about competition or doing or succeeding. It’s about recharging, reflection, and inspiring others. These are things that will probably never make my social media feeds. But it’s reminding me that I am as important as my children and husband. That it’s vital that I nourish myself. That there is no shame in it. That I don’t have to be a martyr.
For now I am gorgeously ordinary and wanting and troubled and struggling. But I am going to take care of that me. She deserves to bathe in the love of hope. She deserves kindness, joy and self-compassion. She radiates with the possibility nurtured from my love.
And so do you.
So won’t you give yourself a break? Your soul is waiting for you.
