I think a lot about self-care. There’s the inescapable advertising and blogging about products and spa days and yoga and having a glass of wine brought to us by the wheels of capitalism. The superficial listicles. And the very real, complex decisions that those of us with chronic illness learn to make in our lives that consider the question at a deeper level. It’s those considerations that I’m actually interested in. And perhaps I’ll share some of my thoughts about that here at a later time.
For now, I want to share this delightful and brilliant piece from the New York Times last weekend: Self-Care: A Working Definition. The essays by staff members are delicious. Here’s a teaser from a few of them:
Choire Sicha’s piece begins with this:
I’m like a working dog who sometimes forgets it. I spend a lot of time bringing tennis balls to people who didn’t ever ask for them and then I stare at everyone and wonder why they’re not throwing the tennis ball for me. The “tennis ball” is usually a memo of some kind. Then when no one throws my ball I go to lay down for a while and then I become sad. Soon I become a confused prissy toy dog pouting on a pillow.
Shane O’Neill’s begins with this:
Meditation is one of the most incredible and transformative things you can do for yourself. Or so I’ve heard.
That’s why, for me, self-care means planning to meditate someday but never actually getting around to it. It is in the intention.
Sandra E. Garcia:
Using my hands has always brought me back to center. Whether it’s D.I.Y.-ing a nightstand I found on Craigslist for $5, reupholstering furniture or working on my bicycle, taking something apart and putting it back together helps me focus my thoughts and temper the noise of the news cycle. It gives me permission to get out of my head.
Give it a read.
Source: Self-Care: A Working Definition