“Take care of yourself!”
“What are you doing for self-care lately?”
“How about taking some time for yourself.”
“Prioritize self-care.”
These are common refrains spoken by well-intentioned individuals. They are platitudes scrolling amongst the reels of social media.
Isn’t Self-Care a Bit Privileged?
Often thrown out as a solution to burnout, the modern construct of “self-care” irritates me, and it sets my nerves on edge. Who has time for self-care between soccer practice and deadlines, grocery shopping and laundry? Is someone else going to pick up the slack if I spend a few hours at the spa, my aching back kneaded in a dark room smelling of lavender? Work along with a splash of mother’s guilt will be waiting when I emerge puffy-eyed and jelly legged from the spa. Shouldn’t I be marking things off the ‘to-do’ list? Someone else deserves this. Isn’t self-care a bit “privileged?”
And yet self-care is the antidote for caregiver burnout, something many mothers experience. So the question becomes not “should I cultivate a routine of self-care?” but rather “what activities are life-giving and won’t take away too much time from home?” What leaves me energized and ready to return to service?
Finding my Version of Self-Care
Many find self-care inside the four walls of a gym, pounding out every stress on the treadmill, pushing away every worry with the exertion of dead-lifts. But when I work out, my inner voice turns anxious and whiny. “Why are you doing this to me?” “How much loooongeerrr?!?!” “Ow. Owww. OWWWW!” I struggle to quiet my moaning mind. Exercise, for me, is necessary work for health and sanity but hardly “fills my cup.”
So, I began to take inventory of my daily activities. What brought joy? What drained me?
- Social media scrolling – DRAINING.
- Brisk outdoor walks – DELIGHT!
- Shopping – DRAINING.
- Art museums – JOY!
- Large parties – EXHAUSTING.
- Lunch with a friend – LIFE-GIVING.
On a trip to Washington D.C. last summer, my family rented electric scooters.
This was my first experience on an electric scooter, and my expectations were low. Imagine the delight when the tiny motor sent me whizzing across asphalt, hair blowing in the wind. I felt a glee akin to riding my bike on long country roads as a child. “Gosh! That was fun!” I exclaimed when we all caught up together at the Lincoln Memorial. I returned home eager to find an activity to bring back the childlike delight I felt zooming across the busy sidewalks of our nation’s capital.
I soon discovered electric bikes. These days I try to work in at least one electric bike ride a week. Speeding along paved roads in my neighborhood or country lanes at the lake, I quiet the thoughts of family stress or future plans, and instead take in the lush green to my right and left, the sound of crunching gravel, and the smell of damp mud. I try to recall what imaginations filled my mind as a child, a time I felt most carefree. And just when I start to ascend a hill and I find my calves tightening in exertion I depress a button and the electric bike’s motor whirs into action, sending me sailing over the hill. I smile thinking, “I wish I had a button like this for life. Just when things get difficult, I can activate a switch to sail right through any obstacle.”
Slowing down as I enter the garage, my mind is blissfully empty, a smile wide across my sweaty face. My cup is filled. I am energized. For me, self-care is found in childlike wonder.
