Your Self-Care Bucket

Take care of yourself and the world takes care of the rest.

A wise friend said this to me this morning. I told him I’d woken up late, and it threw off my morning game, leaving me feeling overwhelmed and of out of sorts. I know we’ve all heard it a million times, but that morning ritual really does shape the entire day. When I don’t make–or take–the time for it, my brain clings on to all the weird snarls it made up while I was sleeping.

Snarls like: what’s the point?

And: who cares?

Or, my perennial favorite: everyone who loves me is lying.

Yeah, that’s just a bag of laughs to carry around all day. So, I do my morning ritual. Most days. Because I don’t like feeling like an ogre. And, most days, it helps immensely. It makes navigating all the other ways I want to take care of myself way easier.

Why is eating so irritating?

The self-care thing I struggle with most is food. I forget to eat a lot. I get annoyed at having to eat. At cooking. At ordering food. At shopping for food. (God, grocery stores here are panic inducing.)

Don’t get me wrong, I LOVE food. I just don’t love being so…ah…dependent on it. I’ve also inherited some weird attitudes around food and cooking from my mom. I remember her being very vocal about being just so freaking over having to think about food all the time, cooking for a family of five. Whether she said that once, or a thousand times, I can’t be sure. Either way, it left an impression.

The same friend from earlier often asks me if I’ve eaten today. Which helps, actually. Because I don’t like saying no, it’s 2pm and all I’ve had is coffee. Not a great look.

Self-care and the liars who live rent-free

Doing that whole self-care thing can feel really daunting. And annoying. And, sometimes, pointless. Especially when depression or anxiety is running it’s lying mouth inside our heads.

It’s also the foundation of everything. When I’m not in a good place, my world crumbles around me. Socks don’t get washed. Podcasts don’t get recorded. The things I want to do with my time become the things that feel like way too much work and what’s the point, and who cares, blah blah blah.

Take care of yourself, and the world takes care of the rest.

So, this morning, my friend urges me to go ahead and do my morning routine. I know myself better than to say yeah, I’ll definitely do that. Instead I say okay, I’ll do one thing. One small promise to myself. I did six minutes of EFT (emotional freedom technique, or tapping), thinking it’d be a wash and I’d Netflix the day away. Which is totally fine, somedays. Self-care is also knowing when to give the world the middle finger and become deeply acquainted with the couch.

This was not a couch day. This was a I’ve neglected something important and my brain is running amok day.

After six minutes of doing this weird thing where I talk to myself and touch myself, I checked back in.

I felt…better. More capable. Less fatalistic. I even felt like I could breathe easier. That one small, nurturing action changed the course of my day.

There’s a hole in the bucket, dear Liza…

That’s how self-care works.

Not from one small action changing everything. Had I done six minutes of EFT in the middle of a depression storm, before I’d built any of the habits I’ve built, I do believe it would have helped. But it would have been one drop in a dry bucket.

Instead, that drop fell into a bucket I’ve been filling–and patching–for years. Because just as important as filling my bucket, is finding ways to keep my bucket from leaking. If you’re bucket is riddled with holes, you can pour water in and it’ll go right the fuck out.

The holes come in many shapes. Unaddressed trauma. Relationships that are dead or dying that we haven’t released. Ideas about ourselves that are long past their expiry date. Work we hate. Environments that drain us. Finances we’re too scared to even look at, much less figure out. Anything that takes without giving back.

Some of the things that add water to our bucket also work as bucket patchers.

For example, practicing yoga gives me energy by moving my body. Drops added. It also calms my mind through intentional breathing, quieting the morning baddies. Bucket patched. Cleaning my area for five or ten minutes gives me a feeling of accomplishment. Drops added. And it makes less clutter and mess around me, lowering levels of distraction and discomfort. Patched.

Boundaries: Can’t live without ‘em…seriously

The biggest leak-proofer I’ve found is strong boundaries. Who I choose to interact with, and how I choose to interact with them, has patched that bucket right up.

It hasn’t been easy. I’ve put large, deliberate spaces between myself and people I care about. And I’ve had to hold firm in those choices even when I got pushback.

Harder than that, though, is the boundaries I’ve placed on my own behavior. I won’t allow access to people who make me feel small anymore. So, why would I allow myself to do the same? It’s taken a lot of time–and is still, as always, a work in progress–but I’m in a pretty good place around not giving in to self-abandonment. I felt that a lot as a child, and throughout my life. It’s something I’ve promised my inner Sarah that I won’t do anymore.

Check out these episodes for more about boundaries, how to set them, and how they can work within a magickal practice.

Having those boundaries in place means I’m triggered less intensely, and less often. And being less triggered, less often, cuts way down on how much time I have to spend in recovery.

Which means when my friend asks me if I’ve eaten today, it’s more likely I’ll be able to say yes, I ate something at least moderately healthy. I make it a point to celebrate the small wins along with the big ones. They all go in (or on) the bucket.

What works on your bucket?

How do you take care of yourself? It’s going to look different for every person, and it will change depending on what’s needed. Learning how to get in touch with the needs of the moment helps. How do you do that? Well, here’s a secret: many of the things that bring us closer to ourselves also do good work on the bucket. Meditation, for example. Journaling helps, as well. Anything that allows you to get a little bit quieter, and a little more honest.

I’ve found that it’s helpful to compile a list of all the ways I’ve found that work on my bucket. It’s an evolving list. The nice thing about having it written down is that when I do encounter a particularly gnarly day, I have something in black and white I can refer to.

Eating food. Setting and honoring my boundaries. Practicing yoga and EFT and meditation. Writing more often. Working on my podcast. Brainstorming ideas for a coaching crucible. Saying no to social engagements. Saying yes to social engagements. Reading a book. Watching reruns of shows I love. Connecting with deities.

All of these are ways I take care of myself.

And you know what? The world seems to be doing a pretty good job of taking care of the rest.