When self-care looks like a kvetch-fest
This was written many moons ago as part of the self-care week of a “blog-tour” for the launch of a friend’s book. The details are ancient – I still had a day-job, and the hubs and I had yet to move to our digs in the #beautifulboonies – but even so, it still encapsulates the brilliance of one of my favorite types of “self-care” … the kvetch-fest.
I’m exhausted.
First, there’s the day-job – which is intense and demanding and can take a lot out of me.
Then there’s the side-biz that I’m working on (with an eye on making it my only biz next year).
And also, last week (after weeks and weeks of house-hunting), my partner and I put bid out on an awesome house, and we're set to close in early August ... so now we're scheduling inspections, an appraisals, and a move (oh my).
And when I say that "we" are doing this, I mean mostly me. He's a therapist, and he's with patients all day, so I'm the main errand runner, lawyer caller, and all that fun stuff. Arg.
Did I also mention that said partner and I got hitched last weekend? With a backyard wedding that we planned and orchestrated by ourselves?
Yeah: Oy.
Sometimes it feels like I'm competing for the gold medal in the Crazy-Busy Olympics.
To add to the excitement of these Olympics, I went and made a commitment
to write for this blog tour.
On the topic of self-care.
Self-care.
Right.
Self-care? What the fargin farg is THAT? Who has TIME for self-care?
I'm in training for the Crazy-Busy Olympics, right? Hello?
So, yeah, it's true that I'm feeling kind of overloaded, stretched, and stressed. Aaaand, all that blahblahblah is just me having a vent-fest.
But guess what: that vent-fest IS my self-care.
Cause the truth is: self-care is so ingrained in my life that I sometimes forget that I do it all the time. But it's not bubble baths and spa treatments or a bi-weekly yoga date that keep me from going completely wacknoid when I'm in the midst of stress and change and to-do lists a mile long.
Sometimes my self-care looks like a grade-A bitching and moaning kvetch-fest.
Cause my self-care practice is writing.
Self-care happens every time I pick up a pen and a notebook and write out my feelings; the crankiness, the frustrations, the challenges and the oh-my-god-how-am-I-going-to-get-through-this-week weeks.
Self care happens when I bitch about my schedule and how I had a crappy night sleep cause the hubster was snoring, and damnit-I-need-sleep. (Kvetch, kvetch, kvetch.)
Not to say that self care doesn't also happen beyond crankiness and kvetching.
It happens when I'm slowing down and paying attention; noticing the way the birds are swooping and diving on the bird feeder; how good the coffee smells; how I'm looking forward to dinner with friends on Saturday.
Self-care can be reporting on the events of the day or just turning down the noise in mind. (Yeah, I just quoted Carly Simon ...)
Sometimes self-care is a stream-of-consciousness rant about things that I know don't really matter in the big picture, but they're pulling my attention just the same. Some it's a pep-talk to myself about sticking with my fitness goals when I really want to stay in bed. Sometimes self-care is about writing down my latest thank you/more please.
Y'know how – during safety announcements on planes – the flight attendants always say that: "...in the event of an emergency, put your own oxygen mask on first."...?
Well, writing is my oxygen mask.
It's self-care in the form of a chronicle, a vent-fest, and a celebration.
It's the thing that keeps me from losing my shit when I feel like I'm losing my shit.
It's my self-care spa-date, a walk on the beach, and a mini-dance party in my living room. It's the aromatic tea, the cozy couch, the rich, dark chocolate.
Writing is the way I clear out the clutter and make space for myself among the to-dos, the shoulds, the oughttas, the obligations, challenges, celebrations, the stresses, and the stretching.
Writing is the sanity in my whackanetta ... that sometimes (and lately, all the time ...) looks like a kvetch-fest.
I know that it can be hard for a lot of women to let themselves kvetch and bitch on the page. We're used to prettying things up and not rocking the boat. We're nervous about verbalizing it and making it real.
But this kind of writing is just for you, and writing it down doesn't make it true always, just true in the moment you wrote it.
Try this at home: If you're stuck letting yourself go with the kvetch-fest, try starting small. You can start with: "I'm so tired of ___."
Or give yourself a minute to list all the things that annoy you, frustrate you, or piss you off. They can be big or little things, or stuff in between. The neighbor's dog barking; the latest political craziness; your friend cancelling your lunch date (again!); another inconvenient hot flash (are there ever convenient ones?).
Don't judge, just make the list.
When you're done, look it over and see if any one thing is sticking out more than the others, and if there is, then let 'er rip and kvetch your heart out.
It might not make everything better, but you'll FEEL better. It's kinda magic like that
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