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| Photo by Brooke Lark on Unsplash |
Things I didn't expect to make me sad:
- The opening musical sequence of Moana (the three of us LIVED for that movie last summer)
- Rick and Morty (in what universe does Rick and Morty make someone sad??? I know. Just...that show made Paul laugh harder than almost anything. And I reaaallly miss that.)
- Seeing Ingrid sit at Paul's usual spot at the kitchen table.
- Google notifications suggesting I share photos with Paul.
- And oh LAWD, this: remember Paul's "Ingrid Journal?" No? It's a notebook where Paul wrote letters to Ingrid over the last year. I've been keeping my distance from it. Simply a matter of self-preservation. (I know it's going to destroy me.) Until yesterday. Yesterday, I decided to move it into the closet and I thought, "I'll just read one. One won't hurt." And wouldn't you know, I opened to a page that started with:
It was painful to read. But so good to hear from him.
I also just re-read my last blog post, and it made me uneasy. Because I was all "Look at me coping so magnificently! I'm traveling and doing things and I'm totally kicking butt at being a widow." And I wonder—am I making grief look too easy?
Because, um, it's not. It's wretched. I'm not sad all day, every day. But I'm definitely sad every single day for at least part of the day. I cry every day. Sometimes for an hour. Sometimes for two minutes. But. Every. Dang. Day.
I find that one way I've been dealing with things is by not dealing with them. In an attempt to not feel my feelings, I've been throwing myself into a number of projects around the house. Translation: my home is beginning to resemble a DIY Pinterest board, and I need help.
When you're rearranging furniture in 90-degree weather and you can't distinguish your perspiration from the tears rolling down your cheeks—something's gotta give.
Which brings me to the subject of self-care.
While self-care can mean different things to different people, I, for one, am not a fan of the popularized "treat yo'self" version. The version that tells us all our troubles will melt like lemon drops if we just put ourselves first and get a pedicure instead of, oh I don't know—actually dealing with things in a real and appropriate way.
Not that I don't love myself a wee shopping spree in the sales rack of Anthropologie. Or indulging in one of Wegman's Ultimate Chocolate Cakes just for kicks.
I love shopping. I seriously love Wegman's Ultimate Chocolate Cake.
But I don't think it's wise to equate those things with "taking care of myself."
Self-care isn't a day at the spa
DEPRESSION: you can’t just drink tea and do a face mask and expect me to disappear— ditch pony (@molly7anne) June 10, 2018
ME: *painting nails* haha what ?? cant hear you over all the Self Care
D: seek professional help
M: *puts lemon slice in my water* lmao bet
Self-care, like so many things, has been commodified into something we can conveniently buy at the mall. If you want to be healthy and whole you need to purchase this face mask or that bestselling novel or this detox tea.
Ultimately, though, those things just serve as distractions from our lives. And remind me: why do we want to be distracted from our lives? Wouldn't our time be better spent trying to fix our lives instead of taking periodic "breaks" from them?
Hashtaggable and pretty, this self-care craze usually aligns with the idea that to be healthy and whole, we need to be actively "doing" all the time. Reading on the beach. Going to the salon. Lighting candles.
Raise your hand if "doing more stuff" sounds like the opposite of how you want to achieve a peaceful state of mind? I can't be the only one.
True self-care doesn't have to be about "doing." It can be about not doing. It can be about lowering our expectations instead of always seeking perfection. It can be as simple as demanding less of ourselves.
We practice true self-care when we learn ways to enjoy the incongruous imperfections of our lives, instead of hiding from them nose-deep in bath suds.
True self-care isn't cutesy. It's not even easy, sometimes. It's about doing things you might not enjoy doing—like creating a budget, seeing a dentist, or cutting out dairy.
As for myself, it's making an appointment with a grief counselor.
Not an event I'll be Instagramming any time soon. But one that will do more for my mental health than splurging on overpriced skincare products.
Stay awesome,
Liz
Hi Liz,
ReplyDeleteI love this post. So genuine. So raw. I'm so glad you are making that appointment. I hope talking with a grief counselor is helpful. You are so right about all that self-care stuff/advice that is out there. It's pretty darn pervasive, for sure. And much of it is sort of on the surface stuff. Self-care is so much more than "doing" something that might (or might not) make you feel better for a short while. Although, sometimes that is needed too. True self-care is about hard stuff too, as you know so well. Experiencing your grief head on must be brutal day in and day out, and yet, doing that is also a form of self-care. And love. I don't know if my comment makes sense. But your post sure does. My best to you, Liz. And to your sweet girl too. Keep writing.
Thank you, Nancy. I so appreciate the feedback. I'm glad I made the appointment too, because I know myself and I tend to put off uncomfortable things. I do think it helped. It's a real effort to be healthy and whole, but my daughter deserves a mom who is trying to get there. Thank you for the encouragement Nancy, and for sharing this post! I'm so grateful for that!
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