Taking Care to Take Care
How do we take care of ourselves while taking care of other people?
For a long time as a new mom, when someone would suggest any form of self care (sleeping more, eating better, hanging out with friends) I felt like telling them to f*** off. Making space for anything additional felt too impossible. I always say that taking care of babies and toddlers sometimes feels like juggling little black holes of infinite need. They want and, sometimes really do need, 150% of me 150% of the time. And, in my experience, there is a huge part of parents that want to give all that and more to their kids.
But this is not a sustainable equation. Not to mention the moments when you have a need (moms get sick too, you know). So what then?
The Pie Chart
If you think of your family like a pie chart and each person’s needs occupy a slice, there are times where it is good, right, and necessary for certain pieces to take up more space than others. Like when you have a newborn, for example, it is appropriate that their waking and eating and soothing take away from parents’ sleep. But, as anyone who's been there knows, it quickly becomes equally important that things become more balanced eventually. Why? Because that baby deserves to eat and be soothed, but they need parents who can function.
The axiom is true (it turns out) that when I take care of myself, I do a better job of taking care of other people. I heard a writer I love recently say that the times in her life she has done the most harm to other people are actually the times when she was neglecting to care for herself. Ouch. But I know this! When I am rested, fed, feeling connected and whole, I am less anxious, more patient, and more generous. When I am kind to myself, I am kinder to other people. When I am resourced, I am a better resource. “How?” is the question.
This is how the pie chart helps me: it’s okay for slices to outsize one another from time to time, but those lines need to be able to move around. Sometimes, like when my daughter is sick, it's okay for her to sleep in my bed even though I sleep a lot worse (because she is still trying to crawl back in my body at 5). But when she is feeling better, it is also okay for her to experience the frustration and disappointment of re-adjusting to sleeping in her own room. I sometimes pause before making the transition after a sickness. Is it really that big of a deal? Can’t I just get over it? She loves sleeping in my bed so much, am I being selfish? Then I remember that, one, my sleep matters too, two, I am such a better person to myself and to her when I am more rested, and three, that it’s good for her to see me taking care of myself and learning to tolerate the discomfort of the pie chart shifting around.
Sips of Water
In therapy sessions, I often picture the metaphor of running some kind of long distance and needing to figure out how to muster endurance. From what I have seen (admittedly zero personal running experience here), it seems that people don’t often stop for big bottles of water when they are thirsty. Instead, there are things like those little paper cups that you can sip while moving. When it comes to finding ways to fill ourselves up while taking care of other people, I think there’s a lot of room for creativity and modulation.
For me, there are a lot of things that if I extend myself 10% more effort like lighting a candle, turning on music, finding my slippers, or actually sitting down to eat then I feel a lot better. These are little things but they tend to my own sensibilities for autonomy and pleasure. And then there’s bigger stuff like joining a therapy group, sitting in the car an extra 10 min so I can talk to a friend, or getting a babysitter so I can go celebrate a friend’s birthday. These things cost more, they require coordination, they are disruptive and, to be totally honest, it’s not like I get home from the birthday party and maintain any level of zen for more than 30 seconds. BUT, they are ways I practice keeping those lines moveable. These are gestures toward myself that build trust and reinforce that each person in this family’s needs and desires are worthy of attention and sacrifice.
What are some of the ways you can set out little sips of water for yourself? What are things that are generative to you and your well being that don’t actually cost you a lot to make happen? Are there things you are denying yourself because it seems easier to just not deal with it but that might actually change your experience significantly (aka a closed doored shower that lasts 10 minutes instead of 5). When we treat ourselves as people who matter, we are less dependent on others doing that for us and therefore less resentful when they inevitably let us down. It’s how I want my daughter to feel about herself so I guess I deserve it too.
xx,
Morgan
