In a Moment | Issue 68

Creating spaces for self-care

I've been wading through the mystifying fog of grief these last few weeks.

The return to routine, which often brings comfort, is less familiar, less steadying as before. And I suppose, to some extent, it's the process of integration. Of allowing the experience of something challenging to seep in. To become part of my being.

I talked with my dear friend Chryssi last night about this process of processing and how to solve the day-to-day challenges that arise within this shifting emotional landscape. After recounting one particularly irritating problem regarding an exchange at work, she offered the following guidance: "Your biggest job right now is taking care of yourself, and this is not that."

The "this" she was referring to was the conflict at work.
Something vexing but not critical.
Somewhere, I had shifted my attention.
A distraction from the bigger obstacles I have been navigating.

And "that" that is taking care of myself.
That is creating the space for tending, for nourishment, for support.
And so often, for so many of us, this can be the case.

We lose sight of the big job of self-care. This deep responsibility that we have not only to ourselves but to others somehow falls to the side.
We don't prioritize it.
We forget about it.

It's hard right now for each of us in myriad ways.
Life can be difficult and overwhelming.
Uncertainty looming.

But the thing is, we can't fully show up for others unless we are tending to ourselves and practicing self-care. In her book "Real Self-Care," Pooja Lakshim describes real-self-care as "a verb–an ongoing process that guides us toward profound emotional wellness and reimagines how we interact with others...Practicing real self-care means looking honestly and unflinchingly at what you need (and what you want) and giving yourself permission to have it."

It's less about acts like bubble baths or massages and more about creating the space within ourselves for care. The poem "The Most Important Thing" by Julia Fehrenbacher gets at this idea.

I am making a home inside myself. A shelter
of kindness where everything
is forgiven, everything allowed–a quiet patch
of sunlight to stretch out without hurry,
where all that has been banished and buried
is welcomed, spoken, listened to–released.

A fiercely friendly place I can claim as my very own.
I am throwing arms open
to the whole of myself–especially the fearful,
fault-finding, falling apart, unfinished parts, knowing
every seed and weed, every drop
of rain, has made the soil richer.

I will light a candle, pour a hot cup of tea, gather
around the warmth of my own blazing fire. I will howl
if I want to, knowing this flame can burn through
any perceived problem, any prescribed perfectionism,
any lying limitation, every heavy thing.

I am making a home inside myself
where grace blooms in grand and glorious
abundance, a shelter of kindness that grows
all the truest things.

I whisper hallelujah to the friendly
sky. Watch now as I burst into blossom.

So, over these next few days, I plan to construct this inner shelter. To firmly establish the walls of this home of care, compassion, and kindness.

And perhaps you do too. Perhaps you check in with that home within and see what needs tending, attention, and care.

💗 + ✌🏻