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By Patrick Mbali
“Self-care is how you take your power back.” ~Zina Patrick
Self-care is not a bubble bath.
I mean, it might be, if you’re the kind of
person who feels like they’re committing a mortal sin by allowing themselves to
wade in hot water with a candle or a book for twenty minutes alone. If that’s
you, then yes. Please allow yourself a bubble bath. Regularly!
Same with a massage. Or scheduling time for
exercise. Or buying yourself some new underwear. Or taking a nap.
If the idea of doing these things makes you
feel squirmy and selfish and, Nooooo, I just can’t! then this
is probably your brand of self-care.
It is not mine, though.
You see, I’ve never had a problem giving
myself more treats. More me time! More pleasures! More
whatever-I-feel-like-right-now! Treat Yo-Self wasn’t something
I needed to be talked into—it was just public permission to do more of what I
had always done.
By this kind of definition of self-care, I
was winning the Self-Care Olympics. Why was it so hard for everyone
else? I wondered, as I treated myself to another bath after my
middle-of-the-day nap following by my weekly massage, while my taxes from three
years ago went untouched for another day, the organic groceries in my
refrigerator rotted in deference to another night of Treat Yo-Self takeout,
and I canceled a therapy appointment because I just didn’t feel like
going (again).
For the longest time, I waded in an ocean
of cognitive dissonance. I didn’t feel like the kind of person
who had a drinking problem, or lied, or who didn’t follow-through, or was
flaky, or God forbid, lazy. I mean, I had so much evidence to the contrary! I
was accomplished, I got a lot of things done, I presented well, people still
loved me, and I had such good intentions!
Except my behavior pointed squarely to
those things.
The disconnect ate at me. I knew I was
tap-dancing a whole lot. I knew my good intentions were an excuse for shitty
behavior. I knew that I was skating by in a lot of scenarios at work, with
friends, in my financial life, at home. I knew that most of what I had
accomplished was done at fifty percent, or less. I cut corners a lot.
I knew, even if I didn’t know, that much of
my life was a house of cards.
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So when I practiced the Instagram brand of
#selfcare by pampering myself, I had this niggling sense that maybe more
pampering wasn’t what I actually needed.
Which brings me to discipline.
Discipline has begrudgingly become my brand
of self-care. Discipline is what has actually created freedom in my life,
contrary to what I long believed. I thought my free-spirited ways were an act
of rebellion against the monotony of life. That I was showing some kind of
ballsy dissent toward the banality of adulthood Carpe diem and all that!
Meanwhile, through my twenties and
thirties, I trembled inside, unsure as to why everyone else seemed to do adult
things so easily and automatically. I thought maturity was an automatic
function of time, a passive effect of getting older. Somehow, it would just
magically happen!
Alas, no.
This one concept has made an enormous
difference in my life: for me, self-care looks like discipline.
It looks like finishing things I start and
pausing for a minute before I start another thing to consider
the implications of starting said thing in the first place: financially,
timewise, energy-wise, and who I might be impacting negatively if I don’t
follow through.
It means boundaries on screen time.
Limiting the amount of sugar I put in my body.
It means teaching my daughter to do things
for herself instead of doing them for her because the latter is easier and
causes less friction in the moment. It also means following through on
consequences I lay down for her, even though it makes my life temporarily
harder.
It means waking at basically the same time
every morning, so I get in the practices that keep me steady before the rest of
the world wakes up: morning pages, meditation, coffee, quiet.
It means abiding by commitments and being
very exact about the commitments I make.
It means sticking to my word as much as
possible, even when I don’t want to.
It means saying no to
myself more than I say yes.
It means asking if my future self will
thank me for what I’m about to do versus my in-this-moment self, and actually
listening when the answer is, No, your future self will not appreciate
this, Laura.
It often means doing what’s necessary over
what’s fun.
Self-care for me means discipline because that’s what is uncomfortable for
me. That’s what I struggle to do. It goes against my default patterning, and
going against our patterning is how we change.
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