Summer of Self Care

At long last, summer is here.  I write these words while sitting on my front porch.  The sounds of bird calls, the gentle breeze in the trees, and the constant hum of traffic on Highway 65 provide the soundtrack to this moment.  The sweet smell of things growing and blooming permeates the air.  The air feels sticky and hot but in a rather lovely way.  I released myself from duty this morning and have given myself permission to just be and to do what feels good.  

I've declared this summer the "Summer of Self Care."  For far too long, my whole life probably, I've looked to external cues for what to do next.  The world will always ask for more - more time, more energy, more money, and more results.  I've spent so much time pouring myself into this world and not enough time drawing in and listening to my inner knowing.  That process is not working.  I feel out of control, lack peace, and...  I feel shame.  I feel shame because the world's demands signal to me that I "should" be able to do it all.  I should be the best mom, partner, employee, daughter, grandchild, niece, sibling, community member, Christian, woman, friend and so on and so on and so on.  When I can't keep up with the ever increasing demands coming from all directions, I feel like a failure and I feel shame.  

There are so many problems with shame, but the problem that's on my mind and heart this morning is how much shame can paralyze us.  Conventional wisdom would tell us that shame would be motivating; "I don't feel good about this decision and bad people make these choices so I need to be better."  The problem is that this doesn't actually work.  When we believe we are "bad" we continue to do the "bad" things.  Since we haven't measured up to the appropriate markers, we just give up.  

Here's an example of how this plays out.

I love yoga.  Like, I LOVE it.  I feel good when I do it.  I feel good after I do it.  I sleep better.  I regulate better.  I enjoy everything about it.  In January, I set the goal to do yoga every single day.  I did that in January and I felt so proud. My arms were stronger.  I felt more in control.  It was awesome.  Then, in February, I missed a few days.  I doubled up on some of the missed days, but really felt annoyed with myself for missing.  In March and April, I missed even more days.  In May, I did yoga just once.  I VOWED that I would be better.  I berated myself for being undisciplined and lazy and "bad."  June began and I got myself onto the mat and it felt good, but it felt different.  The muscles I had cultivated were gone.  What had become easy was again rather difficult.  I was annoyed with myself for "letting myself go."  I felt like a failure and a loser and I didn't make my way to the mat again until today.  

The practice today was 40 minutes long and it was hard for me.  And, yet, today there was a shift.  

I've started reading the book "Intuitive Eating; A Revolutionary Anti-Diet Approach" by Evelyn Tribole and Elyse Resch.  The book is all about making peace with food and your body and allowing yourself to trust yourself and enjoy life.  Shame is no where in this equation.  Deprivation and punishment don't factor in either.  Kindness, gentleness, and mindfulness are the guideposts.

This morning, I asked myself what I wanted for breakfast.  It was actually corned beef hash at Sporty's (a local greasy spoon), but I also didn't want to have to get going right away.  So, I decided I wanted yogurt with muesli and banana.  I'd been avoiding muesli because carbs and I'd been avoiding yogurt because....who knows why.  I'd probably read some article that convinced me that dairy was the source of all of my problems.  Today, that's what I wanted.  So I ate it.  I ate slowly and enjoyed the interplay of cinnamon and cardamom with the dried fruit and banana.  It was good.  There was a bit left when I realized that I was satisfied.  It tasted good and I was full.  I told myself, "I will eat this again sometime soon.  That was really good."  I was done.  I didn't feel the need to cram the rest into my tummy.  I released myself of shame for eating food that I thought was "forbidden."

After sitting on my porch of bit, I thought about all the things I needed to do today.  I knew I wanted to do yoga, but I knew it would be hard.  I realized that the same disordered thinking that was driving my food choices was also holding me back from doing something I love.  First, I felt that the day's tasks and never ending "to do" list were more important than investing in myself.  Second, I believed that since I hadn't been doing yoga "right," I should just not do it.  I wasn't skinny enough, strong enough, or dedicated enough so I didn't deserve to be someone who does yoga.  I was worried that it was going to be hard and that I couldn't do the full practice without modifications.

I got myself onto that mat...right on my beautiful porch...and I did yoga.  It was hard.  I modified some of the poses.  And...it felt good.  I released myself of the shame of not being a devoted yogi with a lithe, graceful body and focused on how good I felt in this moment.  

That felt better than any pose.

Self care, it seems, is just loving yourself.  It's trusting and accepting yourself right where you are at and doing the next thing that feels good and respectful and kind.  

I want to do more of that.  Unlearning all the things we've been programed to think and believe about how to be "good" is going to be hard. It's going to require me to face some hard truths and do things that are different and uncomfortable.  But, in the end, it will feel good.  

Serendipitously, this graphic showed up in my inbox this morning.  The daily reminders from Project Happiness often seem to magically be the message I need on any given day.  God uses lots of different media to teach, I guess.  

On we grow.  We never stop learning and growing and expanding.  I'm looking forward to doing all these things this summer.   I hope you also take this summer to do whatever the next right, good, respectful thing is for you.  We deserve it. 

Take care.  I love you.

Sara