Self-care for cynics

Ted Lasso is essential to self-care. (Jason Sudeikis in "Ted Lasso," now streaming on Apple TV+.)

I walked into the book festival planning meeting nearly ten minutes late with egg on my face. No, I wasn't just a little embarrassed because I was so late even though I (thought I) had carefully planned my arrival to be on time; I literally had egg on my face. Which I only discovered in the car on the way to the meeting when I brushed my hand across my chin and felt—something. Not one of those random wiry hairs that shows up after you carefully comb your face for them (no pun intended). Not a brand-new pimple that escaped the expensive sensitive face wash. No, what I felt was some dried gooeyness slathered under my chin which I scraped away as I drove into the parking lot. At first I had no idea what kind of freak, aging metamorphosis was taking place this time, but of course once I picked it off with my fingernail, it was obvious—somehow I had managed to slap a schmear of egg yolk across my face as I gulped down my hastily prepared lunch of eggs over easy. Eggs-over-my face is more like it.

Since I can typically be counted on to show up for meetings dressed—and washed--appropriately, I attribute the obliviousness of the egg-splattered wattle to a marked lack of self-care. One reason is because when I hear the words “self-care” I tend to get all snarky and judgy about it. Someone becomes aware of the stress you’re under, the loss you’ve experienced or the transition that just happened and they say, “Ohhhh…be sure to practice self-care! It’s so important!” and then they sidle off to the spa for a facial or for a quick weekend to Canyon Ranch to rejuvenate and there you sit, wiping life’s latest catastrophe off your face.

See? Snarky. I’m sure—no—I KNOW that most of the self-care well-wishers in my life are genuinely concerned for my mental health and well-being. But for me—and I don’t think I’m alone—the whole “self-care” thing can be a little too, well—disingenuous. It has always felt to me that most of the people who preach self-care come off as people who don’t actually have a care in the world--but themselves.  

But how many more meetings can I attend wearing my latest meal on my body? Obviously, there is a need in my life that is not being attended to and it is probably in the so-called self-care department. So, as a public service, I thought I’d take a harder look at what that means so I maybe can get a little relief from the hectic pace and stressful life that the Universe has seen fit to task me with.

If I check in with the National Institute of Mental Health or NIMH (you may remember them from that movie) they define self-care as “taking the time to do things that help you live well and improve both your physical health and mental health.” And even though they acknowledge that, “self-care looks different for everyone,” they still include tips like, “focus on positivity” and “get regular exercise.” To be honest, their list isn’t terrible, but it sounds like the same old thing everyone trots out when advising someone to take care of themselves. I know I have to remember to “practice gratitude” but it’s a little hard to scrounge up sometimes after a draining day or grueling week.

But if I deconstruct the enormous and daunting responsibility of self-care, I can probably pull out a few things to do that will allow it in a more manageable form. The best advice from the NIMH site is that “even small acts can have a big impact” and I have to agree; it’s the time-dense tasks that trigger my inner-cynic. Thirty minutes of exercise? How about five? How about I walk outside my front door, walk around the house, come back in, get a glass of water and sit down until someone needs me for something? I can do that.

Another difficult one is: “Set goals and priorities.” Sure, I had priorities, but when I began caring for my dad, his priorities replaced mine. Was I supposed to supplant mine over his? I don’t think so. But I did get better at “boundaries.” Still a difficult one, but those, too, can be made in smaller doses, as long as you make sure your guilt monitor is set to “Not feeling it.” The smaller the boundary (skipping a meeting, closing your laptop at 5pm, Ted Lasso as sacred time) the easier it is to eradicate the guilt from enforcing it.

Other forms of self-care—sleeping enough, staying connected, healthy eating—can all be modified to individual abilities and available time. Self-care, in small doses, is still care. And wouldn’t you care for yourself as diligently as you care for others? I couldn’t always get a full night’s sleep when Dad lived here, but as a diabetic it was essential that he have a healthy diet, so we ate pretty well then and still do. Yes, we have those wonderfully salty tortilla chips in our pantry and ice cream in the freezer, but we also have fresh fruit around, too. I always have the option to make a healthy snack or meal.

Maybe not eggs, though.