Dare to (Self) Care
I’ve been leaning into journaling a lot over the last few weeks. Writing has always been a good release for me, but it’s only been recently that I’ve allowed myself to prioritize it enough to ask my kids to wait while I write. I’ve explained to them why I do it. That it helps me make sense of my own brain, that it helps me feel better when I’m upset, that it gives me clarity as I move through the day. They’ve understood well enough.
The other day my son was upset. He wandered off to his bed to cool down, and when I went to check on him I found him sitting and smiling peacefully. He looked up at me and said, “Mom, now I understand why you write when you’re upset. I feel so much better!” He looked physically lighter.
This feels especially significant because I have tried explaining these benefits to him many times. I bought him a journal so that he could try it out himself, but he never really tried it as a tool for emotional regulation. But as I’ve upped my personal use of the same tool—visibly, and in a way that required patience on his part—he naturally gravitated towards it himself. Now I can’t stop thinking about what a gift it is to children when their parents insist on caring for themselves, even and especially in ways that their kids find inconvenient. In many ways, I think it's the inconvenience that makes it visible. When my kids are expected to wait a few minutes while I finish writing out a thought, my writing is no longer happening in the background for them. It becomes real, and therefore becomes a real option for them too.
The same has happened with another child and running. My husband and I have recently started prioritizing time for each of us to exercise in the morning before he heads off to work. Now every day our children see us switching in and out, encouraging each other along the way. They see us stretching when we get home. They hear us talking about our respective workouts. And suddenly, my son is asking for running shoes and taking himself out for runs around the block. He comes back feeling proud of himself, and ready to take on the whole day. He moved his body. He’s getting stronger. He’s grinning from ear to ear.
It feels more clear to me than ever before that maintaining habits of self care ourselves is among the greatest gifts we can give our children. The way that they see us navigate our days now informs their expectations for their own adult lives. I hope they find ways to fill their lives with movement and creativity and gentle care in whatever way feels most fulfilling to them. To experience the full spectrum of what it means to be human. I’ll start by learning how to do it myself, even and especially through the inconvenience. That’s where the magic really seems to happen anyway.
