What About Me?: Finding Self-Love through Self-Care

INTRODUCTION

What about me?

I can remember muttering those words so many times when I was a young mom and young wife. So many days and nights I spent catering to little humans, and to my husband, making sure all their wants and needs were met. If I am going to be honest, I muttered those words, What About Me? pretty much most of my life.

Any other people pleasers out there? I wasn’t taught while growing up in the 70s and 80s to ask for what I wanted so I sure as hell never asked for what I needed. In my generation as a female, you were taught through the actions of older generations and the media that your role as a female was to worry about everyone BUT yourself. If you did dare to worry about yourself then you were deemed selfish. So naturally, when I became a mother and wife, my focus was to take care of them. And like most young moms and wives, I dove head first always trying to make my husband and my kids happy, even if that meant I put my happiness to the side. Don’t get me wrong, making my kids and husband happy makes me very happy. Watching them smile and laugh and fulfill their dreams lights up my heart. But here’s the thing: if you are always pouring yourself into someone else without refilling yourself, eventually you run out of something to pour. When you are empty, you have nothing left to give to anyone, let alone yourself.

I never learned to express my wants and needs. I never learned to use my voice. I would keep all my emotions bottled up inside. Don’t worry. My emotions would come out eventually, like a tornado storm, typically in the form of stomping my feet or slamming cabinet doors (thanks for teaching me how to slam a cabinet door mom, LOL) or screaming while tears ran down my face saying things in the moment that I wouldn’t remember later, because I was so far gone in my swirling of my emotions I had no idea what I was thinking let alone saying. Sound familiar?

This is what happens when you don’t put your wants or needs first, ever. You become resentful. You become depressed. You feel invisible. You feel unworthy. And you get angry. Very, very angry. Then, one day you cannot take it anymore and you explode, and along comes the tornado. You are cursing out your husband. You are screaming at your kids. You go off on a tangent at your best friend. You even get snarky with your dog. Once the winds of your emotions end you are left with your husband, or kids, or friend, or dog looking at you with their head cocked to one side bewildered at what just transpired. Most likely your husband will ask you if you are about to get your period. Then you will run off crying hysterically all the while thinking nobody cares about you. Still sound familiar?

Let me set something straight. The people in your day-to-day life, even the dog, care about you. They may piss you off from time to time and do some stupid shit. There will be times you have every right to be angry and disagree with them. They may very well be the cause of a small breeze at the beginning of your storm, but you, my friend, are the reason the trees were lifted and your house was shredded. Instead of gently grounding yourself in the moment of the breeze, you allowed yourself to be picked up and carried away. Like I said, the people in your life, they care about you. But you, you don’t.

Once the hysterical sobbing stops, the tears dry up, and the pounding headache from crying sets in, you begin to whisper to yourself, What about me? Those words, my friend, are not your soul crying out for someone to love you. Those words are your soul crying out for you to love yourself again. Those words mean you need to return home; and the only way home is through self-love. The way to self-love is by creating a daily self-care practice filled with habits and rituals throughout the day that fill you up with love.

If what I am saying is resonating with you even in the slightest way, then my friend, I wrote this book just for you. I wish I had known earlier in my life how important it is to love myself first before I loved anyone else, even my kids. I wish someone would have sat me down and looked me in the eyes and told me that the key to a healthy and happy life is self-love. That nobody and no thing can make me happy except me. That making other people happy is an act of love not an act of duty.

As a society we have become so far removed from loving ourselves. Between the expectations of our family of origin, our partners, our children, our education, our life experiences, our childhood trauma, our religion, and don’t forget social media, we have forgotten that our birthright is self-love. So, as you read these pages, I want you to know my words are my eyes looking into yours telling you that your path to self-love is taking care of yourself daily: mind, body, and spirit; and I am here to guide you to your path of self-love through self-care.

By the end of this book I want you and anyone else reading this to be me-ish. Oh, what’s me-ish? I will be happy to share that information with you.

Me-ish is when you take time for yourself daily and fill your cup up with as much love and affection as you do others. When we are me-ish, we are not disregarding our responsibilities such as home, family, friends, and work. On the contrary we are more attentive and present to our responsibilities because we have taken the time to also take care of ourselves and fill our cup allowing an overflow of abundance of ourselves to give to others.

I want you, my friend, to wake up every morning feeling a little me-ish and with this thought, It’s a good day to have a good day, because you are armed with a toolbox filled with self-care tools.

1

WHAT IS SELF-CARE?

Self-care is a trendy word these days. Seems like everyone is using it. Yet the word is so vaguely used that nobody is quite sure what it is, what it means, and the question then becomes, "How does one self-care?"

I have been studying and practicing self-care for over thirty years. In those thirty years I have found that self-care is about taking care of the whole self: mind, body, and spirit, daily. Yes, I said DAILY. You can do all the crunches and eat the greens, but if your head (mind) and heart (spirit) aren’t aligned with your body, then you never truly are healthy and happy. Thus, living the life of your dreams can be difficult to obtain.

What I have also come to find is that when our mind, body, and spirit are aligned, we are practicing self-love. I have seen family, friends, and clients countlessly focus on one area of themselves, assuming if they get that part just right, everything in life will fall into place. It is like trying to watch someone build a home with only one wall up. You need a strong foundation, a sturdy floor with four walls, to build a home. Eventually, you add the roof. But the roof is always temporary because as long as that foundation is strong you can raise that roof as high to the sky as you want.

The same goes for yourself. You need a strong foundation for warmth, comfort, and protection. A foundation where you can be free, creative, and loved for your authentic self. Your daily self-care practice is your foundation for your home filled with self-love.

Over the last thirty years I have created habits and rituals focusing on my physical, emotional, social, intellectual, and spiritual self. These five areas are the areas of self that I find most crucial to focus on daily to keep my mind, body, and spirit aligned. When these five areas are aligned and centered, most days life just flows beautifully. Notice I said most days. This is because even though I practice daily self-care, there are things in my life I can’t control, even through self-care. There are so many external things that are out of my control. When those external things begin to brew like a storm about to wreak havoc on my home, meaning myself, that is when I use my foundation. I shut the doors and lock them, close the windows and blinds, and seek shelter within. I pull out the tools from my toolbox and I work to keep myself safe, comforted, and warm. But most of all, I work to make sure I am loved by me.

Loving yourself is very important. I had the best teacher in the world to teach me that lesson, my mom. However, her lesson was heartbreaking. My mom didn’t have the best childhood. She was one of the oldest of nine kids. My grandfather was a disabled veteran from WWII. When his army tank was hit by a missile, he was the only one to survive. However, he survived with severe burns that left him with no face or ears for that matter. He spent years in VA hospitals growing skin grafts so that the doctors could perform reconstructive surgery to build him a new face and give him back some ears. Back then plastic surgery wasn’t what it is today, and back then people who looked deformed had a very difficult time finding employment. So, my mom grew up in the projects with a very angry and violent father who drank a lot.

My mother married my father at the age of 19 and, as most women do, they marry men who resemble their father in personality. My dad isn’t an angry or violent man, but he did drink a lot. Shortly after my parents were married, my sister and I were born. Oh, did I mention I was a twin? Imagine having your wants and needs met when you are twins. You don’t have to imagine; I will tell you. It isn't easy. Don’t get me wrong. I know my parents loved me, but I have been suppressing my wants and needs since the womb.

When my sister and I were born my mom had an emergency C-section. She was two weeks overdue and had toxemia. My sister and I were removed from her belly and, shortly after, my mom had a grand seizure and went into a coma. The coma didn’t last long, and eventually my mom and my sister and I were released from the hospital.

My dad says even to this day how my mom was amazing with me and my sister. He wasn’t home a lot to help with my sister and me, because he was always juggling two or three jobs. But he would come home and the house was always clean, food was always prepared, and my sister and I were well taken care of.

My mom was that way most of my life. She took pride in our home and her appearance. She had the most beautiful finger nails that were always perfectly filed and painted. Her hair was always perfect and she never really wore makeup around the house, but when she went somewhere she was always put together. But honestly, she didn’t need the makeup. She was just naturally beautiful.

Growing up my mom and I would argue because I was the complete opposite of her as a child. As an adult I became more like her, especially with my home. My appearance, not so much, but I digress. I think the thing that drove her nuts the most was that my clothes were always wrinkly. I didn’t care, but she sure as hell did. She would constantly make comments about how wrinkly my clothes were. That was my mom though. When she thought something about you then you knew it, but she never let us know what she thought of herself.

My mom was also known for her decorating abilities. Honestly, she should have been an interior designer, or maybe she was in a previous life. Anyone and everyone who entered our home would walk around taking notice of the decor in our home making wonderful comments. My mom knew how to make a house a home. She also knew how to make you feel welcome in our home, so much so that we often had family members living with us when times were tough for them. That was my mom, always taking care of everyone. That was, everyone but herself.

My parents divorced when I was in my early twenties, shortly after I had my first born child. It wasn’t a surprise to my sister and me, or really anyone, that my parents got divorced. My parents undoubtedly loved one another, but they loved one another like best friends. They had been through a lot together, but being together, well that wasn’t the best scenario for the two of them. I am grateful that they remained friends through the years though. I imagine at times that had to be hard. But then again, that was my mom, always pushing her feelings aside so everyone else would be happy.

When my mom was in her forties she was diagnosed with type 2 diabetes and, as the years went on, her doctor would beg and plead with her to take care of herself and the diabetes. He was so concerned that when my dad would have an appointment, he would mention to my dad his concerns for my mom. Years went on and slowly I started to notice subtle changes in my mom. One summer my husband and I were throwing our annual 4th of July party with our family and friends. My mom showed up and when she walked in the door, I was taken back by the way she looked. At that time my mom lived a significant amount of time away from my house, so I didn’t see her as often when she still lived in our home town. Her hair was done, but she didn’t have any makeup on, which was odd because she always showed up at a party with at least a little bit of makeup on. What was most concerning was her nails were long, not filed, and not painted. I shook it off and thought maybe I was overreacting.

Later that day my dad pulled me aside and asked me what was going on with my mom. His words were, Did you see her fingernails?! They aren’t painted. That was the beginning of a very long and painful journey with my mom and her health.

My mom eventually wound up in the hospital with congestive heart failure. The cause of the congestive heart failure was due to kidney failure. The cause of the kidney failure was due to not taking care of her type 2 diabetes. I spent the following years in and out of dialysis centers, emergency rooms, hospital rooms, and rehab facilities. My mom suffered from a heart attack, a stroke, and multiple broken bones because she became so weak from being filled with fluid. She would miss multiple rounds of dialysis, then she would fall and break a bone.

This was her pattern. She would be released from the hospital after almost succumbing to death and then be very mindful of taking care of herself for a while. Then slowly, she would start slipping into the routine of just not giving a fuck. She would eat the wrong foods, and smoke cigarettes while still being hooked to her oxygen machine. The worst though was she would skip dialysis. I mean I can’t even imagine what kind of toll it takes on a person to be stuck to a machine three days a week for hours, as your blood is being removed and then put back into your body. It has to be emotionally and physically exhausting. Every time she skipped dialysis though, it would take weeks off of her life. Not minutes, not days, weeks. And she skipped dialysis A LOT. The times she would skip we would beg and plead and cry and scream for her to go. But she would tell us to fuck off and then just stare off into the distance.

Later during my therapy sessions, I would learn that staring off in the distance was her disassociating so that she didn’t have to deal with the trauma she was feeling. The last four years of my mom’s life were horrible. The last two years, well they were fucking horrific. My sister and I dubbed her The Medical Marvel because the doctors would look at her chart and then stare up