Unicorns, Time for Self Care, and Other Impossible Things
My kids have reached elementary age at the same time my work life is heating up and all those house repairs I put off are becoming catastrophic. Of course, who really needs a house without mold, or money, or children who have any good memories or family traditions? So when I think about adding more substantive self-care to my life, all I can think about is how many parts of my life I am already barely managing.
Side note: Some of my favorite children’s books are the Mrs. Piggle-Wiggle series. Not least because I want to be her when I grow up. But the best parts are when the moms call around looking for help before they decide to call the magic lady. The shade thrown on different parenting styles is exquisite. Betty MacDonald is a queen. Everything from overindulgent parents, to judgy parents, to parents who embrace the latest fad – Betty says exactly what we’re all thinking. I think of this because one of the best compliments she gives the normal, reasonable parents, is that they are a good manager.
I want to be a good manager. Have everything in hand, keep calm in the case of disaster, and not forget that one kid cannot bring peanut butter to class and the other has to avoid eggs of any kind, lest we kill someone. Part of what I’m realizing is that in order to be a good manager, I have to give myself the downtime to process all the things required of me. While painting our dining room (how else to cover up the encrusted food on the walls?) I listened to the book Scarcity: The New Science of Having Less and How It Defines Our Lives by Sendhil Mullainathan and Eldar Shafir. Part of the book’s premise is that scarcity of any kind takes up mental bandwidth, so our brains work less well when we are facing poverty, loneliness, or overwork. In order to counteract that feeling and consequent brain fog, we must build in buffer zones. For overwork, they propose secular Sabbath, or rest times that are held fast to give our brain a guaranteed break.
What does this mean for self-care? I think it means that I have to fail at a few obligations in order to build up the space, however small, for the break my brain and body so desperately need. Which means that all self-care ends up with getting my head on straight. I cannot solve all of the problems in front of me. I cannot meet all of the needs that people bring to me. From there, I can allow myself to prioritize some time for self-care. Which in turn makes my brain work better and prepares me to connect with the people I encounter.
How do you make time for self-care?
