I Needed Self-Care From My Self-Care
In my late-20s, I found my life turned itself on its head. My college boyfriend (who I had moved halfway across the country with eight years prior) and I broke up. Not wanting to cope with this upheaval, I pushed the breakup into the depths of my brain and put 1,000 miles between myself and my ex — moving back home to my family.
My first year as a single woman was surreal, but eventually I got a new job and moved into a condo, and I found that I no longer spent time thinking about my ex or our history. All of the drama receded and my life took on a new normal.
The only thing in my life that didn’t change with this breakup, was my anxiety disorder. I’ve dealt with anxiety much of my life — I dealt with it in my relationship with my boyfriend, and I continue to deal with it to this day. The difference though is that when I had lived with my boyfriend, I’d felt I had an outlet. I had someone to come home and talk to, and who would (most of the time) tell me that things were going to turn out just fine. Now that I was living alone, that safety net wasn’t there when I walked in my front door. I could have called friends, and sometimes I did, but I felt I was being more burdensome to them — they had their own lives and families, whereas my ex and I had been sharing a life.
I confided this to my therapist who said, “Make sure you’re practicing your self-care. You need to take care of yourself.”
I confided this to my cousin who said, “You should treat yourself when you’re feeling anxious. Do some yoga or something soothing. Self-care.”
I confided this to my friend who said, “If I feel anxious and like I don’t have anyone to talk to, I have a glass of wine and put on a face mask. Self-care is the best thing you can do for yourself.”
Self-care, self-care, self-care.
If I throw the term “self-care” into Google, it comes back with 2,370,000,000 results in 0.65 seconds. If I type “self-care” into the Amazon search bar, it gives me a listing of over 50,000 published books.
I preach self-care. I’m a counselor for first-year college students and I dedicate entire lectures in our seminar to self-care and well-being. When my students come into my office for one-on-one appointments, I ask them, “Are you sleeping?” and, “When’s the last time you ate a vegetable?” I tell them, “Make sure you’re exercising. It will provide you with a burst of energy. Even walking from the dorm to your classes instead of taking the shuttle bus can help!”
But, then I go home, and I eat pizza — not vegetables. I sit on the couch and drink wine. I walk my dog, but that provides her stumpy little legs with more exercise than it does for me. I don’t sleep well. How can I lecture others about the necessity of caring for oneself if I’m not willing to put forth my own effort?
I decided that I needed to practice better personal habits. I was going to practice self-care. Then, I’d be able to tell my students about self-care practices rather than self-care theories. I turned to Pinterest. Pinterest would have all the self-care ideas. They’d be arranged in concise lists with pretty fonts and beautiful background pictures of people doing yoga on the beach. Pinterest would be the ticket.
Pinterest didn’t disappoint, and within minutes, I had four self-care ideas to start with. They sounded nice and soothing. I wrote:
1. Do yoga after work.
2. Meditate in the morning.
3. Take a nice bath on a stressful day.
4. Have some chamomile tea before bed.
I was satisfied with my selections. I was ready to get going.
The next day, I came home from work, amped for my foray into yoga. I found a beginner video on YouTube, cast it to my TV, and began exercising.
I hated it.
It moved too quickly. It moved too slowly. I couldn’t tell if my poses were correct. The instructor’s voice annoyed me. I was bored. I recognized that this was likely to do with the video I chose, rather than the practice of yoga itself, but I was done. I crossed yoga off of my self-care list. Maybe I’d revisit it someday, but in the meantime, I’d try others and see what worked better for me.
The next morning, I set my alarm an extra 15 minutes early so that I could meditate. I opened my Headspace app and began with the basics course. It consisted of ten-minute meditations for ten days.
I did all of the meditations — but I never truly latched to the process. I never learned how to quiet my thoughts; some mornings I slept a little bit too long and then found myself rushing around after meditation; it quickly became something I had to do, rather than something I wanted to do. I kept the app, but I crossed regular meditation off of my list.
One night after a particularly stressful day, I decided I’d take the soothing bath my list promised. I walked into my bathroom and decided that the tub could use a good scrubbing. I took 15 minutes scrubbing my shower before deciding that my tub still looked dingy. I didn’t even want to take a bath anymore. Crossing “bath” off of my list, I went into the kitchen to make my chamomile tea.
The tea tasted a bit bland, but I enjoyed its warmth. Yes, I thought. Here we are. I could get into the tea-and-book routine. I finished my tea, took my dog for a walk, and then went to bed.
Then I had to get up to go to the bathroom.
Then I had to get up to go again.
Then I went a third time.
No more tea before bed.
I felt frustrated. Why aren’t my self-care efforts working? I thought to myself. These are tried-and-true self-care practices. They’re on every list. This is what the thoughtful, peaceful, self-caring people do.
I sat down at my desk the next morning, annoyed. My self-care was agitating me, and it certainly wasn’t supposed to be doing that. I needed self-care to de-stress from my self-care. I checked my calendar and saw that one of my high-needs students would be coming to meet with me in just a few minutes.
Great, I thought. If anyone needs self-care it’s her, and now that I’m a self-care failure, I don’t even know how to talk about it with her.
She came in and sat down, looking tired — as she usually did. I commented on this, and she told me that she hadn’t been getting any sleep.
“Why aren’t you sleeping?” I asked her.
“I don’t know. I just have no energy,” she told me. “I sleep a lot during the day.”
“You should be in class during the day,” I reminded her, and she smiled sheepishly.
“Maybe I should actually try exercising,” she said.
“That’s a great idea,” I told her. “You have a free gym here, just go run on the treadmill for 20 minutes.”
“I’m not really a treadmill person,” she said, “But I’d probably enjoy the bike.”
Her comment slapped me like an electric jolt and suddenly I felt both illuminated, and idiotic. My self-care ideas weren’t working, because I wasn’t tailoring them to me.
“You’re brilliant,” I told my student.
“Ummmm. Okay, thanks,” she said.
Psych Central defines self-care as “any activity that we do deliberately in order to take care of our mental, emotional, and physical health.” These activities can’t, and won’t, be the same for everyone. Self-care is not one-size-fits-all, and it’s necessary to know your needs and values before you can successfully implement a self-tailored routine. You need to know who you are, or be willing to embark on self-discovery.
Certainly, there are some things that all benefit from — getting enough rest, exercise, and eating a well-balanced diet — but if certain practices are causing me more stress than relaxation (like meditation or yoga), then these are not the self-care practices for me.
I felt daunted by this realization. I wanted to be able to practice yoga like Pinterest told me to and feel good about life. I didn’t want to spend time figuring out what would work for me — that would mean taking a harder look at myself.
Because at that point, who was I? I had spent my twenties in a long-term relationship, adopting the hobbies and interests of my ex. We’d become so intertwined throughout our time together that even years removed from the relationship, I still wasn’t certain what thoughts and interests he had brought into my life, and which thoughts and interests pre-dated his presence.
I hadn’t spent any time in a long time thinking about who I am, what I like, and what I need. If I wanted to try to take better care of myself though, I knew I’d need to figure it out.
Over the next few weeks, I tried a variety of different relaxation, exercise, and mindfulness techniques. Some I enjoyed, and some I didn’t. Eventually, I realized that my exercise routine could include running, instead of yoga. My mindfulness could include journaling, instead of the Headspace app. I could enjoy a long, incredibly hot shower, rather than a bath. Reading in bed before turning out the lights could serve as my best calming technique.
Some days, I look forward to doing these activities, and some days I have no interest in any of them. I’ve learned a few key things.
1. If an activity brings me more stress than relaxation, it’s probably not the best self-care method for me — at least at that moment.
2. If I don’t want to practice a particular self-care activity on a given day, I shouldn’t — but I could try to replace it with something different.
3. Self-care is something I have to figure out for myself. Getting input and tips from others is a great start, but I need to tailor my practice to who I am.
I no longer feel like a failure when I try something and it doesn’t work out — I just toss it to the side and move on to the next activity. Self-care is still very much an exercise in self-discovery for me, but I’ve enjoyed it, and I’m certain that my needs and interests will continue to evolve as I continue to grow and change.
Who knows, maybe one day it will be yoga that speaks to my soul.
I Needed Self-Care From My Self-Care
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