Learning to care for myself after a lifetime of only caring for others

Self-care. I did not write the book on it.

I’m bad at self-care. I suck at self-care. Or at least, until recently. 

For a lot of my life, in my world, the term didn’t even exist. I was busy most of the time — work, running a household, caring for My Favourite Husband (MFH). My self-care consisted of sleeping, so I could get up and do it all over again. Yes, there were nights out. Yes, there were get-togethers with friends. But that was sandwiched inbetween surviving. MFH, his illness and me juggling a caregiver role, a marriage, work and the tasks which were now mine. All of them. 

There was little down time and, when there was, I was too exhausted to self-care. What was that anyway? If I had the time to practice it, what was I even supposed to do during that time? 

In hindsight, I should’ve carved out the time. I should’ve figured out, during that time, I could do whatever I needed to regain balance. I should’ve stopped whatever I needed to stop for even a short while. I should’ve exhaled. I should’ve figured out that, by taking time for me, I would’ve gained clarity, patience and peace. 

But I didn’t. And then the day came when I went from we to me. When MFH was no longer the focus of my life. When he died. It became survival of a different kind. Shock gave way to the range of emotions that come with soul-piercing grief. Self-care was a grief counsellor, journal entries sent to friends, trying to figure out how to exist in a household that has only one heart beating in it, only one set of footsteps echoing in it, the lonely sound of only one person breathing. 

I began to find my way, slowly, and the term self-care entered into my world again. I thought I was ready to explore what it might look like to me but I had no idea where to start. I could read a book on how to practice it but, really, was someone else’s idea of self-care applicable to me and my life? Maybe. Maybe not. 

And so I began to careen back and forth between what I thought self-care should be (bubble baths, lunches with friends, travel, naps, sitting on my patio in my backyard). As I did, I began to discover that, depending on the day, some of those were self-care but, depending on the day, some of those things were commitments — things that I loved to do and wanted to do but weren’t necessarily what I needed to do to centre myself. And, with that realization, my idea of self-care began to make sense. 

Self-care was whatever I needed to do whenever I needed to do it to restore balance to my life. Self-care for me could, and probably would, look different all the time because what I needed would be different depending on what was happening in my life.

It took me awhile to realize that it’s OK for it to be this way. It’s OK that self-care can be both a nap in the sun and spending time with my favourite people connecting. Self-care can be meditation while I exhale and it can be listening to the Red Hot Chili Peppers while I work in my flower beds or refinish a piece of antique furniture. 

I thought about this recently as I had a self-care day. I spent the day primarily unplugged  because I was peopled out. Recognizing that I let my instincts tell me what I needed. My day began by sleeping in. Once I got moving, I decided that I would  visit a local greenhouse and purchase some beautiful annuals to pot up in a few weeks. My next move was a pedicure to take care of the feet that take care of me. After that, lunch. Alone.

I went home for a bit and took in the silence, which seemed to be what was speaking to me. My day ended by taking a class that had a taste of different activities I wanted to try: reiki, restorative yoga and sound healing. I attended myself, met other women there and found that, by doing so, I achieved the right blend of me and people. A new class at a new yoga studio; self-care by opening up to a new experience.

At the end of the class, the instructor sent a deck of affirmation cards and a basket of crystals around the room for the recipients to select from. The light in the studio was dim and so I tucked away my card and read it when I got home. 

My card says:

I AM LOVE

Be playful in new and wildly delightful ways. Everything is simply energy.

And without searching any further, the perfect definition of what self-care means to me was gifted by the universe.