D. Lambert, author
Enter a new world. Stay for a while.
This post is inspired by my husband buying me socks.
Through my academic career, we had to dress formally. That meant black socks with dress shoes. What my professors never knew is that I wore socks with coloured heels and toes. They couldn't see the neon pink or sunshine yellow I was hiding, but it was a splash of fun in an otherwise bland day. It is a trick I maintained for years, until I couldn't find those kinds of socks locally. Lately, I've been wearing the black socks they all expect of me.
My husband bought me socks. He found the coloured heel/toe socks again. Today, I'm turquoise. It's a spark of joy where only black used to be, where black is meant to be.
A CBC article (link HERE) said: "..."self-care" is quite often is just another added duty that can overwhelm…" and I've been finding that. But my socks have changed my point of view.
Self-care can't be scheduled in. You can't make yourself relax just because you took a hot bath, or attend yoga and expect the world to be a better place. These large scheduled 'self-care' moments are just one more thing weighing me down. If I schedule lunch with a friend, I lose three hours of the day during which I would normally be doing other things. Not to say I won't do it and enjoy it in all likelihood, but I may regret it later when the dozens of other things that need to be done show back up. And what if I can't afford to go on that holiday I feel like I need? Am I doomed?
Thus, I am advocating for little moments of self-care. Don't feel obliged to take long holidays (but if you can, go for it!) or schedule in 'quiet time' if it means paying for it later. You'll just be sitting in the bath worrying anyway (or is that just me?) about the things you are not doing. Instead, find small self-care moments that can be fit in anywhere.
A cup of tea
Fun-coloured socks (thank you husband of mine!)
Listening to good music
Sit outside when reading/writing/doing emails etc. Or at least open a window!
Enjoy small pieces of dark chocolate.
Then listen to I'm unworthy by Cheryl Wheeler and have a laugh on me: