Time is of the essence, even though I often pretend like it isn't. As I get older, I reflect on how time has changed the way I think about things. Perspectives can alter our judgements, of course, and perspectives change, as you get older. Wiser, maybe.
There's so much talk about self-care now. Maybe social media has made us even more aware of it. Maybe that's a good thing, but maybe it isn't always a good thing. I remember being in college when the topic of self-care and mental health really became less of an afterthought and more of an entrance and an exit into any conversation. About work, school, about life. I chose grace so often, trying to practice what was swarming my news feed. And then I found that too much grace held me back, that it impeded the very act of what self-care was supposed to do: make me better. I'm no stranger to struggles with mental health. This time of year, I become so aware of it because my past taught me to be incredibly self-aware of it. Time has shown me that there isn't a one size fits all when it comes to self-care with mental health struggles, and I worry that the internet indeed paints it this way. This past year alone has taught me that I can no longer surrender to the prescriptions that articles and social media fill for us. I have to concoct my own recipe or I will have a hand in my own disaster. And this is very much what I want to avoid. For me, it isn't useful to slow down. It isn't productive or helpful for me to succumb to slowing down. When I see the darkness of my past struggles and old worst days begin to find placement in my body like a familiar virus, I have to speed up. I have to tell myself to get up. To get with it. To learn something new, to listen to an educational podcast, to go for a walk, to dance to music in my living room at midnight, to cook myself a healthy meal, to sweat for an hour (or two) at the gym, or to pour my entire being into my work. This is how I self-care. And for the last year, it has worked. Self-care, for me, is keeping busy. Self-care, for me, is holding myself accountable. Holding myself to a higher standard. It's convincing myself that I run faster than whatever is trying to chase me. I've had flashbacks of a COVID 2020 quarantine this past week. I worked from home all week due to construction at work. I tried to be optimistic about it. I reasoned with myself: I won't be as depressed as I was during quarantine because I can go places. I can sleep in. I can go to bed a little bit later. I can play with my routine. I was wrong. I was foggy all week. I dragged myself out of bed and I dragged myself to the gym, which is my favorite outlet after I leave work. I was drained, for no reason at all. From working, sure, but otherwise, from doing nothing. This made me realize I need routine. I need challenge. I need to be aware of my needs in stimulating environments so that I can continue to fulfill them. I was mixing my home, my sanctuary, with my work. I was slowing down. I needed to speed up. As I write this, I continue to reflect on my college days, and even before. My days as a teenager when I carried loads of darkness on my back and could never figure out how to get rid of it. When it became a topic of conversation, I thought I finally had the answers. Do this, not that. Slow down. Breathe. Take time for yourself. This ultimately left me standing completely still without any direction, any hold on my struggles. I was still beating around the bush, wondering why, if we're all aware of it now, why all this advice isn't working for me like it's working for everyone else. I realize now it's because the information we seek, though readily available, doesn't mean it's going to fit us, as individuals. It's just like when I was in 10th grade and Googled: "how long does it take to get over a broken heart" and whatever answers came up had very little to do with my actual healing time. Self-care isn't a one size fits all. I'd like to request a return for a complete refund on what they've fed us and instead, write my own prescription.
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AuthorI like to write; point blank. This is a little piece of me that I get to share with the rest of the world, and hey, you know, maybe you'll appreciate it, maybe it'll do nothing for you. But my writing exists, and that's enough for me. © 2019 Silvia Iorio. All rights reserved.
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