The Urgent Importance of Self Care

My mother had an excellent palliative care physician. A smart, rule-following, ethical, and mostly serious woman. She became a mainstay of our lives through countless home visits, numerous lengthy phone calls, and endless consultations.

Her knowledge of our family was intimate, but the rigid boundaries of her professional obligations were unambiguous: she would not be my therapist, my friend, my shoulder to cry on. She was only and ever my mother’s advocate.

Sure, the good doctor understood the complexities of being the child caregiver of an ill parent. Yes, she appreciated the emotional and practical challenges encompassing the situation. Obviously, she knew full well how hard it was.

Still, there was never any question, never any overlap, never a moment when it seemed like maybe — maybe — her role was also to help me. No. She was simply and explicitly my mother’s doctor.

One summer afternoon, we were on the phone discussing the plan for bringing my mom home from the hospital. Again. My mom had stopped using her oxygen and started chain-smoking. Again. She refused to take her pain medication. Again. The combination had landed her in the E.R.. Again.

That’s when it happened. That’s when — for a brief and pivotal moment — the doctor stepped outside of her singular responsibility to my mother and, speaking to me with earnest knowing, with legitimate concern, with urgency, said the craziest sane thing I’d ever heard.

You cannot go to the hospital and get your mother. You have to refuse her phone calls, refuse to pick her up, refuse to speak with the hospital doctors, refuse to speak to the social worker. If you go there, if you pick her up, it will go on and on like this until your mom dies, or until you lose everything, whichever comes first.

I was dumbstruck. Was she — was the doctor — suggesting I abandon my mother in the hospital?

Yes. Yes, I am. You have children and a husband, you have your life. It’s unethical for me to priortize your mother’s care at the expense of your well-being. You have to stick up for yourself.

Do what now?

Take care of yourself. You have to TAKE CARE OF YOURSELF.

There’s not a detail about that day I don’t remember with unadulterated clarity. The sky was blue, the sun was out, the air was warm, my kids were playing nearby. Their little faces zoomed into focus as she spoke.

It was all true. It was all absolutely, painfully true.

If I didn’t force the hospital to engage my mom in developing a new care strategy that didn’t involve me sacrificing my young family to tend to her needs, I would lose these years and never, ever get them back.

I didn’t want that. My mom didn’t want it either. Not in her heart, not in her love for me. She was sick and afraid, and her fear was bullying us both.

I had to choose: her needs or mine? It was terrible. It was hearts smashed open and loyalties questioned. It was begging and tears and apologies and promises. It was, in a sense, life or death.

The raw truth? Either way, for my mom, it was death. She was dying. But I didn’t have to be.

Look, I’m not trying to bring you down. I’m not asking for your pity or sympathy. I’m not saying you’re only justified in taking care of yourself if things are really bad. And believe me, I know enough to know that many of you have seen far worse, lost far more, hit much rockier bottoms.

Oh, and let’s be real clear: I ain’t no life coach. I’m a writer by day and comic by night. I tell penis jokes in dive bars and I don’t even have a penis. That’s about as much of a coach as I can be.

I’m not about to sell you on a program or pretend to be any kind of expert. I’m not dismissing the realities of single parenthood, three jobs, five kids, divorce, grief, homelessness, food scarcity, trauma, mental illness.

I’m saying this: no matter what, no matter when, caring for ourselves is a matter of urgent importance. It’s the difference between actually living and barely surviving.

So, what IS self care?

Self care is any intentional thing you do to care for your own physical, mental, and emotional health.

What self care is NOT.

It’s not selfish. It’s not stupid. It’s not unecassarily indulgent. It’s not a waste of your time. It’s not some kind of woo-woo psycho-babble baloney only people with endless money and free time can afford to do.

Why is it so critically important?

You know how flight attendants adamantly insist that you put your own oxygen mask on first? You know why, right? Yeah. Because we can’t help someone else if we’re already straight dead.

It’s an overplayed analogy, I know. But it works. If you are going to do anything else in your life effectively, you have to prioritize self care.

Don’t take my word for it. The science is clear: when we engage in self care — going for a walk, connecting with a friend, saying “no” more often — we are physically and emotionally healthier, better able to care for the people around us, more relaxed, less anxious, less depressed.

Google “the science of self care” or “the importance of self care” or “self care statistics” and spend a day — or four — reading the research.

Ok, but can we get real for a sec?

The hardest part of self care is getting started. We’re already scheduled 26 hours a day, 8 days a week — jobs, kids, pets, relationships, meetings, bills, cooking, cleaning, laundry, and lying on the floor crying.

Negotiating time with a reluctant partner can be completely discouraging. It’s not uncommon for relationships to succumb to the idea that if one person wants a thing — like time — that means there’s less of it for the other person. Filled with resentment and competing for scarce resources, we give up.

So, let’s kick it back to what the good doctor told me: YOU HAVE TO STICK UP FOR YOURSELF.

How? How? How?

Decide that you’re going to take care of yourself. Decide again. And again. And yet again. Put a reminder on your phone. Write it on your hand. Put sticky notes in the car, on the mirror, by the front door. Say it with me: I can and I will. Hell, send me an email and I’ll send you a reminder. I gotchu. We got this.

Ugh, FINE. Gimme some ideas, already.

OK! Look for Part 2 of this piece, 43 Ways to Care for Yourself, forthcoming. A whole big list of ways you can care for your own damn self.

Originally published at www.parent.co on March 16, 2016.