Originally posted June 1, 2012
I know I bark about loving yourself and taking care of yourself. Yet, I’m personally making it my mission to get a new approach trending. The following showed up on my Facebook wall this week:
BEAUTIFUL! Just so stinkin’ beautiful.
I still struggle with taking care of my own person. My religious upbringing told me I was to “take up my cross” daily and sacrifice, sacrifice, sacrifice. Amazing how that was drilled into me much more than the references to laughter, joy, rejoicing, parties, more parties, drinking, dancing, singing and hours and hours of sex (all in the Bible, too!).
I am a giver. I love to help the hearts of those who are hurting. I love to console and encourage. I love, love, love, LOVE to watch someone be lifted up and felt acknowledged and strengthen, because I know what that feels like.
I also take on the pain of others. I hurt when they hurt. I want to magically fix them. I spend sleepless hours wishing I had a magic wand. That is not healthy. I cannot continue to be a great wife, mother, friend and giver in the world if I allow all of that to suck the giving right out of me. So, I must exercise self-care.
Yet as my friend, Kathy, showed us: sometimes you have to FIGHT for that. Sometimes you have to overcome the crazy with a little crazy. Sometimes you have to know what you really want and need to not give a flying flip what anyone else thinks. Give it to yourself first, so you can eventually give back.
I am a 39-year-old mother of five who hoola hoops. A lot. On purpose.
Sometimes I dance.
Sometimes I make things. Weird things. Things that may or may not ever find a purpose on the planet. But I need to do that and I want to do that. I am not doing a million other things when that is happening.
Don’t you dare worry about what someone else thinks more than what you think about yourself. You find a way to do something for yourself. Take a break. Feed your body with food or sleep or play or exercise or conversation or sitting on your ever-lovin’ butt. And do it. In the rain or the snow or the heat or the park or the church parking lot.
It’s not important. It’s vital.