Defining the elusive concept of self care

Along with “an abundance of caution,” “social distancing,” and “quarenteeni,” it feels like “self-care” has been a top buzzword of 2020. While I aspire to take care of myself, my family and close friends would be the first to tell you that I fall miserably short.

I don’t know how many times this year I’ve heard people who love me quote the famous line of flight attendants everywhere, “You must put on your own oxygen mask before helping others.” Truth be told, the first time I heard this phrase as a 10-year-old, I thought “what a selfish thing to instruct people to do!” It’s ironic that 30-years later I am still struggling with this concept.

“Put your oxygen mask on first, before helping others.”

– Flight attendants everywhere

Detecting patterns that aren’t serving you well anymore

My well-worn pattern of putting others’ needs above my own and rising to the occasion coexists with suppressing my feelings. I’m a strong internalizer. For me, this generally leads to a sudden expression of a lot of pent-up emotions that my loved ones don’t see coming.

I recover pretty quickly from my minor freak-out moments, and it only spills out with people who love me. While my family forgives the momentary indulgence, I beat myself up for it and the cycle continues.

“You yourself, as much as anybody in the entire universe, deserve your love and affection.”

– Gautama Buddha

Another common pattern for me is making up my mind about what needs to change and then jumping right into the solution by setting a lofty goal. The underlying unconscious thought is that “I can do anything if I set my mind to it” with enough determination and self-discipline.

This pattern might show up in the desire to lose weight. Rather than take small incremental steps to healthier eating, I might select a strict “no cheats” diet. When I’m upset with myself for drinking an extra glass or two of wine on a stressful day, the next morning I beat myself up, convinced that I need to stop drinking cold turkey. It might be that I haven’t been working out as often as I think I should; so why not solve the problem by signing up for a marathon.

In sharing my idiosyncratic inner voice, you surely think I’m crazy (fair assessment). While I may be exaggerating a little, the thought patterns aren’t that far off. I’ve followed each of the above solutions in years past with great outcomes.

Despite being well-intentioned, taking on an either or mentality contributes to the problem. The wine and the pizza aren’t the real problem. The escapism and false-sense of calm I find in these indulgences is the root cause. There is another error in my thinking. I don’t have to do it all by myself. I have lots of people who care about me and are willing to help!

The frequency and gravity of the challenges of 2020 has forced me to to try rewire some of these mental circuits. With curiosity, I’ve been contemplating how I might keep the good parts and solve for more sustainability, joy, and calm.

Identifying the values that these patterns are rooted in

Upon reflection, I’ve come to recognize that while these patterns of thought are anchored in altruistic core values, in practice, they often lead me into feelings of anxiety and even depressogenic thoughts. Ultimately, this makes me less able to serve others wholeheartedly.

The habit of compartmentalizing my feelings seems to be anchored in my most prominent core value of gratitude, reminding myself “I should be grateful.” Putting others first is tied to another deep value of service that is the foundation of my faith. Grin and bearing it through hard times echoes values of grit, resilience, and strength. Setting big picture goals and moving with abandon to tackle them flows out of a few of my strengths of motivation and discipline.

Yet in cycling through these default patterns, I have been invalidating my own lived experience. I have become so good at ignoring my emotions that at first I wasn’t even able to label them. When asked how some trial impacted me, I was at a loss. The thought hadn’t crossed my mind.

I was living through moments of pain, fear, and fatigue, but completely out-of-touch with how I was processing it. If Covid has taught me anything, it’s forced me to realize that if I don’t make some adjustments, I cannot bring my best forward each day.

Reflecting on the “what if” of change

Challenged by my beloved sister-in-law, Ilana, to start questioning “what would happen if…,” I started playing out potential scenarios. What if I took some vacation days to rest? What if let others take care of me once in awhile? I’m worthy of love. Would it be so bad if I let myself be on the receiving end of acts of service?

What if I let others fend for themselves just a little bit more, resisting the urge to swoop in and help? My kids are growing up afterall (now 6 and 9-years-old) and it teaches them responsibility and a sense of duty. If I don’t allow them to step up, aren’t I just encouraging this unsustainable cycle?

What if rather than hastily setting a lofty ambition, I tried to do just do a bit better each day? Perhaps I would stop judging myself so harshly for failing at what was a pretty unrealistic goal. What if instead I took some small steps in a purposeful direction?

While sheer willpower has worked for me in the past, juggling a big career and raising two children in the midst of a global pandemic might have made this all just a bit harder than years past. I’m not sure why it took me so long to realize that. The age-old strategy adage of “what got you here won’t get you there” rings true.

There is freedom in accepting that I cannot do it all” A female executive I respect immensely told me recently that she was worried about me and all I was carrying. She encouraged me to take some of the pressure off and adjust my mindset of expecting to be able to do it all. Doing my best was good enough. I didn’t need to be perfect.

There is freedom in accepting

“I cannot do it all.”

– Kathy Lewis

Putting one foot in front of the other

Along a similar theme, I kept hearing the advice to take little steps and try do a bit better everyday. The concept showed up in the words of the leadership guru, Doug Conant, who spoke at my team’s annual retreat. The same concept appeared in a book by Henri Nouwen I was reading with my Notre Dame girl friends. It seemed that everywhere I turned I was reminded that I have a choice of abundance over scarcity. Why go for the or when you could choose the and.

My favorite Peloton instructor was rattling off these concepts during my morning workouts. Hitting particularly close to home, when I asked my dear counselor why I felt I kept failing in making the changes I wanted to see; she paused and then specifically called me out. She asked me why I couldn’t ever give myself a pass. She challenged me to forget perfect and set some incremental SMART goals (Specific, Measurable, Achievable, Relevant, and Time-bound).

Clearly, I needed to get the message. The universe was making that abundantly apparent. The first step was to start by simply doing one or two things for myself each day for at least 30 minutes, morning and night. That shouldn’t be so hard, right? Still I struggled for weeks to make this come to fruition.

Offering up control and accepting a willingness to change

The turning point finally came in a moment I least expected. Sprinkled throughout this post are photos of a recent trip I have the privilege to take last month. For me, this was a bigger “something for myself” move. My best friend from undergrad asked if it was possible for me to do a quick “no-kids” overnight, just us. Her sweet in-laws offered up their beach home on the Jersey Shore. The perfect COVID-friendly getaway.

The whole trip was restorative in big and small ways. I drove down with my loving (and calming) mini goldendoodle. Having her quiet company on the drive and the ability to reach over into the passenger seat for an occasional belly rub instantly took the edge off. I hadn’t slept much the week prior due to an intense work week full of deadlines and I finally felt relaxed for the first time in memory.

I listened to an inspiring audiobook on leadership the way there and RBG’s autobiography on the return drive. We packed healthy food and some white wine. I was greeted with a hug and a time-tested friendship that allows you to come as you are.

My friend, Allison, brought cute Christmas crafts that kept our hands busy as we talked honestly the way old friend do. Laughter erupted every minute or two, and we somehow ended up absent-mindedly watching a series of early 1990s RomComs.

The reckoning

While each of these little moments of self-care were like a healing balm to what had been a decently traumatic year for our family, the main event happened at the crack of dawn the next morning.

Allison and I have been friends for nearly two decades now and know each other very well. I’m a farmer’s daughter early bird who rises about 5am (on a late day). Ali is a night owl, who with three young kiddos, deserved to have the opportunity to sleep-in as long as possible that day.

Characteristically, Snickerdoodle and I woke up around 4:30 am. I quietly fed us both, bundled up, and grabbed her leash. We headed out to the beach for a long walk. Having her at my side, I did not feel scared, nor alone. The sound of waves crashing into the shore line was deafening in the silence of the early morning. The night sky unfolded above us – a vast canopy of piercing light.

In that moment, I felt small, safe, and loved – surrounded by the majesty of nature and the universe. Knowing no one was within earshot (or awake), I had the urge to sing. I offered up a hymn that was my grandfather’s favorite, “How Great Thou Art.”

Snickerdoodle and I walked up and down the beach for a couple hours. When we got cold, we moved a bit inland and walked the dunes. I thought a lot about what I had experienced over the last 10 months.

The death I had been confronted with at work. Everything that has happened with my dad’s health. The juxtaposition of being immensely needed both at home and at work in a way that felt not humanly possible. I offered up the feelings of failure and inadequacy that has haunted me throughout the year.

I thought a lot about the recurring and congruent messages I’d been receiving from unsolicited sources. Could I change? What would that look like? What would it take? As tears poured down my cheeks, Snickerdoodle turned to check that I was ok. I concluded that I could at least try.

After watching a majestic sunrise, I returned to the beach house south of 7:30am, quietly finishing my silly craft as my best friend slept. We hung out for a few hours and then parted our separate ways with a big hug. As she let go, Allison told me “Don’t wait so long to reach out for help next time.” I knew exactly what she meant by that.

As I work to focus each day on doing just a touch better, I encourage each of you to be patient in your own journey of processing and healing from the events of 2020. My hope in sharing my story is that is resonates on some level with you and helps you remember that you are not alone.

I hope you find freedom in learning to care for yourselves as I aspire to learn how to do the same. May we each take small steps each day in a purposeful direction and look back to see our aspirations realized in a meaningful way.

“O Lord my God, when I in awesome wonder
Consider all the worlds Thy hands have made
I see the stars, I hear the rolling thunder
Thy power throughout the universe displayed

Then sings my soul, my Saviour God, to Thee
How great Thou art, how great Thou art
Then sings my soul, my Saviour God, to Thee
How great Thou art, how great Thou art!”

– Carl Boberg, 1885; “How Great Thou Art”