Assorted Thoughts on Self-Care

I have a bunch of complicated feelings on the topic of self-care, but none of them seemed quite sufficient for its own tidy blog post. So I’ll discuss them here and maybe expand on some of them later. Some of them are mostly political, some are mostly personal, and most are a mix of the two.

I. Self-care versus communal care.

Lately I’ve been noticing how often self-care becomes a replacement for care that really ought to be provided by the community: by employers, by mental health professionals, by friends and families, by (dare I say it) taxpayers.

Self-care cannot replace being paid a living wage that allows you to get through the day without breaking down because you’re so stressed about money. Self-care cannot replace effective, accessible therapy and psychiatric medication for those who need it. Self-care cannot replace having love and support from close people in your life. Self-care cannot replace adequate parental leave, sick leave, childcare, elder care, healthcare, and other basic necessities. Self-care will not help when the only way to have a job that pays enough to cover the things that self-care does not magically provide is to put yourself so far in debt for your college education that you spend the rest of your life worrying about money anyway.

Self-care has very important limits, and I think most of us activisty types are aware of that. But it’s jarring to see self-care touted as a solution by institutions that are creating (or neglecting their responsibility to solve) the very same problems they are touting self-care as a solution to. Self-care doesn’t pay my rent, much less my student loan debt. Self-care doesn’t help when an employer won’t give me enough time off to do any damn self-care.

II. Self-care is a harm reduction measure.

Having said all that about the limits of self-care and the responsibilities of people/institutions to step up at times and care for each other, I think there’s another way to think about this that might be helpful: self-care as a harm reduction measure. Harm reduction, as the words imply, suggests that at times when immediately taking all the harm away is impossible, reducing the harm may still be possible (and worthwhile). In its prototypical usage in alcohol/drug treatment, it might refer to giving intravenous drug users free clean needles because, while we can’t magically make them stop being addicted right now, but we can reduce the harm of their drug use by greatly reducing their likelihood of contracting infections by using dirty needles.

Harm reduction in the self-care context can mean that, since we can’t magically create a just society today, we can help people cope with the way things are for now. If you have a mental illness but no therapist or psychiatrist, there are things you can do to help yourself get by in the meantime. If you don’t get paid enough and are constantly stressed about money, there are things you can do to forget your worries for a few hours and give yourself some small things to look forward to. If you are taking care of your aging parent while working full-time because there is no other care available/affordable, there are things you can do for yourself to ease the burden you’re carrying. (The wording here is not to imply that a person who needs care is themselves a burden or that it is wrong to need that care; we all carry burdens of various weights and sometimes that includes caring for someone we love who can’t care for themselves. It should be okay to be honest about the difficulty of that, even if it is a labor of love.)

Of course, one potential concern about harm reduction in any context is that people will get complacent and stop working on the broader, systemic changes that would reduce the harm the rest of the way. For instance, same-sex marriage can be seen as a harm reduction measure against homophobia–it won’t solve the problem, but it will help reduce some of its harms for the time being. (Some people don’t realize that there even is homophobia beyond the marriage issue, but they are wrong.) But some radical LGBTQ activists worry that, having achieved same-sex marriage throughout the U.S., we’ll collectively sigh in relief and say, “Well, that’s good enough, I guess.” And, meanwhile, trans people of color will still be subject to disproportionate violence and discrimination, folks will still be losing jobs, housing, and families because of their sexuality or their gender, trans people will won’t be able to access appropriate healthcare, and so on.

The same thing could happen on a smaller scale with self-care. We might develop our own effective individual self-care practices and decide that, really, it’s okay, we can live with juggling two or three jobs while caring for children and aging parents.

At least, that’s the argument against harm reduction. (The left-wing argument, that is.) But in my experience, when people give up on fighting for systemic change, it’s less complacency and more burn-out or straight-up not having enough time. Burn-out, at least, is the exact thing that good self-care is supposed to prevent. Besides, the argument that harm reduction is actually harmful because it prevents people from staying motivated to pursue more complete solutions sort of implies that people should be expected to suffer even more in the meantime so that they can be better agents of social change, and that’s downright creepy.

III. Everyone’s self-care looks different.

This is an oft-repeated fact, but sometimes it’s still hard to internalize this. I used to get so frustrated with the idea of self-care because all the examples I saw online were like…take a bath! Watch a crappy TV show! Spend all day in your pajamas eating ice cream out of the carton! These are all perfectly valid things to do, but these types of activities make me feel worse rather than better. Taking a bath is nice, I guess, but it’s hard to keep my mind engaged on anything when most of the things that I could engage it on cannot be safely taken into a bathtub. Watching crappy TV and spending all day doing nothing makes me feel like a useless waste of space, so I try to avoid it. (Again, it doesn’t mean you’re a useless waste of space if you enjoy those things. It means I don’t like them.)

So for a while I was all like “what is self-care even” because all the examples I saw failed to resonate with me and seemed more like self-neglect than self-care. As it turns out, for me, self-care usually involves doing the sorts of things that other people need to avoid for self-care: reading articles online, spending time in big groups of people, writing (for public consumption, not in my journal), being with my family, listening to someone else’s problems. Self-care for me looks nothing like sitting around on the couch looking like crap and eating crap.

This is why when people ask me for suggestions on how to do self-care, I don’t really know what to say. I only know what works for me, and I’m starting to pick up on the fact that I’m a little unusual in this way. (For instance, people keep asking me how I manage to write so much despite my depression and despite how hard writing online can be. I find this question confusing. I have depression, so how can I possibly not write? Being online can be shitty, so how can I not use writing to cope with it?)

IV. Self-care versus self-preservation.

I find it useful to distinguish between the self-care we do to replenish and sustain ourselves, and the self-care we do to prevent ourselves from falling to pieces completely. This distinction would help clarify my earlier thoughts on self-care as a form of harm reduction, and it would help explain why some forms of self-care actually seem somewhat harmful, at least in the long term.

Consider these two different situations. One: You’ve had a long, crappy day at work and you’re feeling demoralized about your work and about your value as a person. You’ve spent all day around people who don’t care about you and treat you like shit, and at times like this it’s hard to remember that you do really matter and you’re important to people. You’d planned on going home after work tonight and doing adult things like laundry and making lunch to take to work the next day, but you realize that what you really need right now is to recover from your day. So you message some friends and ask them to meet up with you at a bar, where you drink and laugh and talk about anything other than work.

Two: You’ve had a long, crappy day at work. Things just keep piling up and by the end of the day, you’re an inch away from ending up in the bathroom sobbing. You can’t stand the thought of talking to even one more person today. Although you had plans to go out with your friends after work–something you normally love to do, something that normally helps you recharge from days like today–this time you just can’t bring yourself to go. You message them to let them know you can’t make it this time and head home, where you lie on the couch, pet your cat, and watch Gossip Girl because you have no energy left for anything else. It’s not like you even enjoy it, really, and you wish you could’ve gone out with your friends, but at this point you just can’t.

I’ve been in both of these situations, and for me, the difference is agency. In the first situation, I have chosen to do something that will restore a sense of worth and joy to me, and that is self-care. In the second situation, I have “chosen” to cancel my plans in order to do something that I need to do (that is, nothing much at all), but it doesn’t feel like a choice. Yet this second scenario often gets labeled as “self-care.” “It’s ok,” my friends will say when I cancel. “You need to take care of yourself.”

But that doesn’t feel like caring for myself. That’s just preserving myself so that I don’t burst out crying at the bar with my friends or sit there staring catatonically into space. I didn’t go out because I couldn’t, even though I wished very much that I could’ve because that would’ve made me actually feel better.

At the same time, though, it’s still self-care of a sort. Given that I already felt so awful, choosing to stay in rather than try to force myself to go out undoubtedly makes my life easier in some ways. It prevents me from burning out further. It prevents potential damage to my relationships with others. It prevents me from embarrassment if I don’t feel comfortable being my burned-out self in front of my friends (and, although this is a hypothetical, I actually don’t).

That is a harm-reduction sort of self-care, whereas my first example was a more positive form of self-care. It wasn’t about preventing things from getting even worse so much as it was about making things get better. Both of these forms of self-care have their place, as painful as it is when one gets confused for the other.

V. Self-care should fit the situation.

Just as different people find different forms of self-care helpful, different situations might call for different forms of self-care. I touched on that in the previous section, but it goes further than that. At the Secular Women Work conference this summer, Hiba Krisht did a workshop about burn-out and self-care in which she made the point that effective self-care needs to restore whatever it is you’re lacking in that moment. If you’re lacking energy, self-care should restore energy (or at least conserve it, when restoring it is impossible). If you’re lacking connection, self-care should restore it. If you’re lacking peace and quiet…you get the idea.

While that sounds totally obvious in retrospect, I never thought of it that way before, and that was why, as I mentioned above, most suggestions for self-care techniques fell flat for me. Lounging around in a bubble bath is great for when you need calm and solitude, but that’s not what I usually need. I need intellectual stimulation and connection with people.

Unfortunately, that makes self-care even more difficult than it already is for most people, since feeling intellectually understimulated and disconnected from people also usually goes along with lots of sadness, fatigue, and other shit that makes it really difficult to achieve intellectual stimulation and connection with people. What then complicates matters further is that most people, including most of the friends I’d theoretically be connecting with, conceptualize self-care more as sitting in a bubble bath or watching Gossip Girl than being out at a loud bar with friends yelling about recent psychology research. So when I tell my friends I’m feeling shitty, they’re much more likely to say, “Aww, it’s okay if you need to just lay around on the couch and watch TV” than “Oh, sounds like you need to head out to a crowded noisy bar with a bunch of us to yell about research.” And when I’m in an especially shitty state, I can’t always access my memories of things that have helped in the past, so I’m unlikely to draw the “feeling shitty? go hang with friends!” connection on my own. Plus, I feel awkward asking people to hang out with me when I’m feeling shitty, because they might not realize that I’ll probably stop feeling shitty as soon as we start hanging out (but also, I can’t necessarily promise that’ll happen 100% of the time, you know?).

And sometimes it admittedly feels really weird how fast my friends jump to saying “it’s okay to just cancel our plans and be alone!” when I mention I’m having a hard time. At that point, the crappy part of my brain is thinking…do they want me to just cancel and be alone? Would they rather not deal with me when I’m down? Is it bad to want to be cheered up by people when I’m sad?

Ultimately I try not to ascribe such negative motives to my friends and try to trust them to just set their own boundaries. But regardless, it would be so helpful if people would more often ask, “What do you think would be helpful for you right now?” rather than reminding me (with the best of intentions) that I have the option of doing something that would make me feel much, much worse.

Self-care, both as a concept and as a practice, is not a panacea. We shouldn’t try to make it do more work than it’s capable of. But I’m definitely not ready to throw it out, either.

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Assorted Thoughts on Self-Care
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7 thoughts on “Assorted Thoughts on Self-Care

  1. 1

    I’ve been thinking a lot about #1 and #2 myself lately.

    I think its interesting to think about #1 in particular in connection with all the talk about “adulting” that so many millennials (including myself) are fond of. There are so many things that go on the list of things that are expected of a competent, healthy adult in the modern world:

    –procuring [and preparing, if you don’t have money to not] healthy food for yourself on a regular schedule
    –keeping your home clean
    –doing laundry/dressing professionally
    –managing one’s own mental and emotional health and social relationships [which by default you are probably doing without the degree of community/family/ and relevant healthcare support that would be ideal, and to the degree that you do have those supports you probably have to put a substantial amount of time making the appointments/planning the gatherings of friends/etc to maintain them ]
    –managing one’s physical health [including getting in some degree of physical activity somewhat regularly, making and attending regular doctor and dentist appointments and finding the means to pay for them]
    –spending 40+ hours/week at a job that makes you sufficient wages to cover your basic needs
    –maintain very current knowledge of your field and an ability to describe your economic worth in the form of a resume/cover letter given that you will likely change jobs every few years at minimum
    –paying a large number of regular bills, probably including several utilities, one or more forms of insurance, and likely several forms of debt
    –being financially competent enough to manage your expenses, maintain your many accounts, save for emergencies/major purchases/retirement, do your taxes…
    –being technically competent with a smartphone and probably also a personal computer, and maintaining these devices
    –managing your interaction with social technology [I’d argue that even if you chose to opt-out of social networking entirely, you still end up devoting time/energy to explaining that choice to people, dealing with the inconveniences it produces, and resisting temptation]
    –keeping track of all of these commitments, many of which are time sensitive, and executing them regularly

    (Additional notes: 1) yes, that’s a pretty minimal list, not including owning/maintaining a car or property, having and caring for pets, much less children, or being a good citizen [staying informed about politics + voting] 2) most of us were never actively instructed in how to do most of the things on it [particularly the tech stuff, but also managing finances, time management, managing emotional/physical health…]. 3) a lot of people would add “without asking for help” to most if not all of the items. )

    And I look at all that and wonder…. is it really fair to expect *everyone* to be even minimally competent at every single one of these things at the same time, both in terms of having the knowledge/skills to pull them off AND having the time/energy to do so? I don’t think so, and I think a lot of people who APPEAR to be adulting exceptionally well are able to do so because they a) have greater than typical family/social support and/or b) have the financial means to pay for services that take some of these things off their plate, at least partially.

    The reason I bring this up in connection with the self care question is that I feel like both issues come from the same place, which is a kind of capitalistic individualism, an idea that we all should be able to provide for our own needs entirely to be considered functional members of society. We’re allowed to rely on other people to some degree, but only in so far as we are able to pay for it. And if we are struggling to meet our basic responsibilities, or we’re stressed out by it, it’s because we aren’t working hard enough or we aren’t good enough at [thing we are failing at].

    Anyhow… apologies if that isn’t super clear/coherent… there are a lot of ideas jumbled in my head. I need to get back to blogging myself, for my own sanity if nothing else.

  2. 2

    Self-care for me looks nothing like sitting around on the couch looking like crap and eating crap.

    This made me wonder about my own methods. In the end, I must say that I’m really not sure if there is anything I’ve ever consciously referred to as ‘self-care’.

    Still, there are some candidates. Being an enfant terrible on other people’s blogs (but always easy to scare away, so no worries)? Attempts at some small talk on the net? Oh, yes, and chocolate – I’ve almost forgotten about chocolate!

    Anyway, from your description, self-care sounds like a very attractive idea. Indeed, it sounds almost like a way of saying to yourself “look, whatever other people may think, you are not a nobody – on the contrary, you are someone worth taking care of, so please, let me do this for you!”. Well… almost.

    And even if not – even if, in fact, you *are* a nobody – you can always close your eyes and just enjoy the chocolate.

  3. 4

    This resonates well with me, especially #3 and #5. To me, self care is often “doing more things”, especially with my hands. I’ve always been somebody who enjoyed creating things. Whatever crafting fad you can remember from the late 1980’s to now, I’ve probably done it. It is something I need on an almost physical level, especially when I have to work with my head a lot.
    And then people look at me and say “where do you find the time for all of this”, often implying that either a) my life can’t really be as stressful as I claim it to be or that b) I am wasting my time on things I shouldn’t waste my time on. Why am I not cleaning instead of folding stars for the holiday decoration?
    And yes, saying “I was so tired I could only sit down and watch TV” seems to be way more acceptable. Physical exhaustion seems to be a concept people understand. Emotional/intellectual exhaustion much less.
    And just like you, I sometimes forget that “sitting down and watching TV” may not be the thing I need. I do it, and then I feel even worse because I’m still exhausted and the floor is still dirty, and a million tasks are still unfinished. If I remember and scrape together the energy I need to get started on a project it then almost becomes a chemical reaction where you just need to light a spark and then you set things in motion that release more energy that ignites even more. Only with the difference that you’re not totally burned out at the end but happy and tired, with emotional energy to spend the next day instead of unhappy and tired, dreading the next day.

  4. 5

    I’ve always been suspicious of self-care, too; because too often it looked synoymous with opting out. Relieving stress is conflated with doing less… and that kind of advice mostly seems to be going womens’ way. Why, I wondered for a long time, wasn’t there a self-care mechanism that didn’t involve taking yourself out of the game and sitting on the sidelines? Could there be a vested interest on the part of the focus-on-yourself advice givers, to see less action from women in general?

    Of course, since then I have seen a lot of self-care advice that involves staying active; you’re not the first. And I’m grateful for it.

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