I have to care for myself first to then care for you.
There’s this really annoying saying floating around the Internet that one cannot expect others to love them until they love themselves. There’s a similarly irksome adage that one can’t properly love other people until they love themselves.
I think both are absolute nonsense. I’ll spare you the 1 Corinthians regurgitation, but loving oneself isn’t always possible and it shouldn’t be a prerequisite for receiving love from others. It’s often through witnessing other’s love for ourselves we, in turn, understand what they see and, hopefully, appreciate it more than we once did.
I don’t love myself when I have anxious fits. I don’t love myself when I say something out of spite. I don’t love myself on bad body days when I don’t recognize my reflection or can’t fit into clothing that just fit (four to eight years ago…)!
Even on perfectly pleasant days, there are times I don’t love myself because the eternal struggle of coming to terms with and understanding purpose, fulfillment, emotional energy, and how to be ok on this big, bold, beautiful planet is draining, and I don’t have a lot of love left over.
I don’t always love myself. I just don’t and I want to be honest about that, but that lack of love (for a moment, days, or even expanding phases of my life) doesn’t mean I don’t respect or care for myself. If you’re like me, unlearning lots and learning even more, we have to prioritize taking care of ourselves so that we’re around long enough to love ourselves.
I’ve never been great at raising my hand and asking for help. And there’s a lot to unpack in that fear of needing assistance (anxiety, ego, embarrassment, self worth, misogyny, etc.), but for now, I want to reconsider why it’s so effortless for me to give my help to others, but impossible for me to turn that attention toward myself.
Last year, my family faced a sudden, pressing need for a full-time caretaker on several occasions. My stint as a moonlighting nurse/nanny/support system lasted about 15 months, give or take. And it’s in the wake of that time I’m realizing how abundantly important taking care of myself was to surviving and caring for others.
Bethany, duh, you need to take care of yourself. That’s like step one in living. Yeah yeah yeah, I hear you, but preaching and practicing are different tangos and I have two left feet anyway. I read all the self care tips, I invested in face masks, and I bought that Nonviolent Communication book for it to sit on my bedside table and act as a nagging reminder that I had a lot of work to do.
This illusion of “self care” has been repackaged and sold back to us as a series of products we must monetarily invest in to achieve inner peace and understanding. We all know by this point I’m no stranger to conspiracy theories and I’m waving the CT flag hard on this one. Corporate America wants us to hate ourselves to peddle products to help alleviate said hatred.
I’ll paint you a pretty picture: You should have a face like the Kardashians. If you don’t, you probably aren’t attractive and no one loves you, including yourself. Here, have some makeup, clothing, tummy tea, and a smartphone app. Now you’re cooking. Continue to fork over your cash for these products and we’ll continue to provide a false sense of community, self worth, and ego.
Listen, I love makeup. I love trash reality television. I love a nice facial moisturizer, getting my nails done, and other seemingly vain pastimes. This isn’t meant to judge folks who invest in those products or have fun with them because I’m one of them. They make me feel good, even in fleeting moments, and it’s my money to spend how I wish. I’m just being critical of how they’re sold to us and who’s doing the selling.
All that to say, when we talk about self care, we’re leaving a lot of juicy, pertinent stuff out of the conversation and part of me feels that exclusion is on purpose.
When I started setting boundaries in my life, I lost friends. One boundary was not drinking alcohol. Another was not being the sole person to carry the friendship through time. Another was demanding conflict in order to resolve situations (ie: not sweeping things under this proverbial rug. Does everyone use the same rug? Like, is there a communal rug? If not, do I get to choose to throw away said rug? ‘Cause I think my rug is stacked taller than the Alico at this point).
In every corner of my life, with every boundary I set, there was a little push back. Work, friendships, family, and myself. I get it. When someone sets a firm boundary towards me, my immediate instinct is to become defensive. Let’s give ourselves the time and space to explore that defensiveness and shift into support for our friend, co-worker, self who is implementing a boundary for their own self care.
Learning how to engage with and talk about boundaries has amplified my self worth and acceptance in a mighty way. In the past, I’d swallow the boundary and do whatever it was that was being asked of me, but that isn’t sustainable or healthy for everyone. I was running myself into the ground and self medicating with poison. We have to be clear about where our emotional labor capacity is at, how much we can invest in a project, and what kind of break we need from certain activity or surroundings.
It’s ok to ask for the things you need. And it’s ok if other people don’t get it - that’s sort of, kind of their problem. On the flip side, it’s important we’re aware of our loved one’s boundaries by asking about them: Are you comfortable with this? Do you have the time for this? Is this something you’re interested in? Can we talk further about this? Are you overextended this week? How can I help you?
I can’t care about you fully until I care for myself (setting boundaries), but once I care for myself, I want to care for you (respecting boundaries). Ok, that’s as Psychology Today as I’ll get in this post.
I have a very different relationship with my body than I did just one year ago. Somewhere in the process of caring for other people’s bodies, I stopped paying attention to my own. It’s easy for me to do that - preferable. I’ll drop everything to care for someone else, dive in to fix their problems, and joyfully ignore the things in my life that need tending to. Escapism doesn’t begin to describe it.
But I can’t continue on that route. I need this body of mine to keep up with the grand schemes I have planned and part of prioritizing self care is listening to what my body is talking about.
Here’s a loving reminder it’s ok to take a nap, it’s ok to sleep in, it’s ok to eat cake, and it’s ok to not count calories. You know what’s best for your body.
When I was getting sober, it would have been lovely if I could get out and exercise, bask in the sun, and fill myself with leafy greens, but that 100% was not going to happen. My body and mind were in sync on that one. I needed to wallow in bed and watch Moana on repeat, and that’s exactly what I did.
It was good for the soul. It gave me time to cry, rest, journal, plan, read, and stay away from alcohol. An outsider looking in might have thought giving in to that urge to stay close to the comfort of my bed was unhealthy, but to the naysayers I say, you don’t know my body. You can’t feel her ache for alcohol to quiet all the rest. You might not know what it’s like to yearn for that liquid gold from the top of your head to the bottoms of your feet. I was nauseated, achey, and sick. My body needed rest.
Almost two years later (woooo!), I’m in a different space. My body feels better when I take a long walk as often as possible. I feel nourished and awake when I eat plant based. My body still clings to coffee with a death grip, but I’ll take that habit over some of my former.
My point in all of this is that people might have loud opinions about what you’re doing with your body, but you know it best. Listen to its needs. Care for your body like you do other people’s time, dreams, wants, and needs, especially when it means having a slice of cake.
Caring for others has helped me realize what my greatest passions in life are: writing, art, music, empathy. Sure, I already knew that to a degree, but it wasn’t until my time was utilized as a caretaker that I realized how important those projects and pursuits are to my overall wellbeing.
Teaching myself digital art, the ukulele, and songwriting basics reignited my artistic curiosity, intuition, and dedication in a way that made me want to take care of myself. I wanted to get out of bed and start the day so I could live a life of passionate pursuit.
Feeding my soul in this manner made even the most forgettable of days exhilarating. It helped me redefine my personal definitions and measurements of success and productivity. Now, it’s easier for me to dive into the extracurriculars of my life, knowing they nourish me in a way that’s positive, effective, and long-lasting. In short, pay attention to what drives you because those things are going to carry you through the best and worst of it.
It’s not selfish to prioritize caring for oneself before others. It’s necessary. Eventually, we can do the two simultaneously, but until we learn what we need to maintain resiliency, self awareness, and emotional stability, we have to choose ourselves.
Rambly as this may be, it’s been on my heart to vocalize to all the caretakers out there, I see you. And I want you to care for yourselves. Don’t be afraid to set clear boundaries, listen to what your body is asking of you, and pursue your passions with blissful abandon.
And when all else fails, take the nap and eat the cake.
Bethany Swoveland is a poet and digital artist in Texas. She’s available for freelance work and can be reached at bethanyswoveland@gmail.com. Sign up for Bethany’s monthly email newsletter here.