Having a self care practice has been one of the best things that has come out of the past year. It hasn’t happened all at once, and it took a while to figure out what it needed to look like. In fact, I’m still figuring it out, and it will probably change with time.
I’m excited that my kids will see me doing this for myself and know that I value myself enough to do it. When kids see their parents doubting their own worth (and one of the symptoms of this is poor self care), won’t they doubt the worth of their parents? And maybe, by extension, themselves?
The struggle is that in a household with so many moving parts, these moments of self care can feel ruined when something doesn’t go right. And then it can feel like it Didn’t Count.
(My Not Kidding Face after a night shift)
I don’t consider reading people one of my gifts. When I need to, I can really tune in – and as a nurse, I have to tune into my patients in order to figure out things they won’t or can’t tell me with words.
With friends and acquaintances, I pull it together for conversation as often as I can. But I find this type of interpretation exhausting.
Sometimes, especially when I am tired or distracted, I can’t muster the energy needed to read folks and so I wind up feeling like I’ve missed something, without knowing quite what. I can sense a disruption in the Force, so to speak, but can’t tell what is causing it.
That happened this morning.
