One
I didn’t mean to go on a tear about Self Care for a whole week. I’ve been irritated about this word for a decade, or whenever it was I first heard it. I probably have a hundred more things to say about it–like the fact that it allows people to be vaguely condescending and preachy. Maybe it stems from that first time I was in the hospital for the birth of my first child, where I felt, incomprehensibly, that the nurses were all treating me like a child. And with each delivery it got worse–the “sweethearts” and “dears” and “do you need to go pottys” as if I was five years old and not about to unburden myself of a whole person. I wished everyone would call me Mrs. Kennedy, and be very respectful of my estate, not make me feel bad for being unable to turn my whale like bulk over more quickly. But then it carries over into regular life where other people are allowed to look into the contents of your day and tut tut about your life choices. “You should get more rest,” they might say, when you arrive at a social function with dark circles under your eyes. I always want to bite back, “When would I do that?” But I never do. I just smile meekly, both to the competent nurse and to the considerate stranger.
Two
I just so think that with the growing Health Care Kingdom, and everyone’s delighted devotion to their feelings as The Most Important Thing, there is what feels like a tidal wave of Infantilization taking over the world. The best thing isn’t to be an adult any more. Nobody wants to really grow up and take responsibility. That’s lame. Now the best thing is to be a judgmental baby–a being whose essence is knocked about by every feeling, every emotion, every desire. That’s what young children have to cope with. The best gift you can give a child is the ability to regulate and command the emotions, to have mastery over their own desires and feelings. A child who can’t get a grip over powerful emotions is forever a slave to them, unable to go on to cheerful and more interesting pursuits. It’s not just the rioters lighting fires all over town because they don’t like who is speaking, it’s also the likes of Glennon Doyle Melton who insists that happiness is getting everything she wants, the proof of which is a stream of angry tweets.
Three
But often it can be much more subtle. The tone of this article boils my onion. Somehow, the author, who seriously means well and wants everyone to be happy, manages to talk down to the woman, with her “sad Sunday smile” and the man who, to help her be more cheerful, is supposed to leave bible verses tucked all over so that she can get a grip. The more I read it, the more it enraged me. Stand up, Wife and Mother, get a hold of yourself. You’re not a victim of your housewifing. If you’re jealous of your husband for going out to work, get out of the house more. Or something. Tell him. Act like an adult, which is not a sad pathetic victim. Not that the proverbial ‘she’ in the piece is even doing that, but that the author is standing over them both blogsplaining how they should live.
Four
Of course, speaking of sad and pathetic, that’s me, continuing to limp along in the most frustrating way possible, sick sick sick. Soon I’m off to another doctor who I’m going to beg to just remove it all–all the organs. Just kidding. Just my thyroid. Or maybe not. It’s super tempting to behave like a child when I’m about as capable as one. I like to lie there and whine that everything hurts and there’s no point to life if I can’t be happy Right Now. So I’m a hypocrite. So sue me.
Five
The thing is, being able to take care of oneself, both physically and emotionally, is an incredible gift. It is a Great and Beautiful Thing. Being able to feed and clothe one’s own body, to organize and care for a house, to care for the needs of other people is a great privilege. It shouldn’t be sullied by the condescending and bleak word “Self Care.” I don’t know what else to call it, but it’s just such a ghastly sounding word. And the person who is saying it to the person who is supposed to do it, even in a medical situation, standing over the poor dear stuck in bed, unable to get to the loo alone, should think about what’s being implied. “What are the goals for you today? Getting to the potty? Keeping down the hospital gruel? Getting to go home?” How bout the goal could be for you not to talk down to me, to not assume that I’m the village idiot. It’s all the voice, man, it’s all in the voice.
Six
When the ordinary tasks of life–eating, sleeping, working, cleaning–are belittled and condescended about instead of held in honor the person doing then starts out with a cultural deficit. Eventually, when the time comes that she can’t do them, she’s already set up for guilt, for the thought that maybe she should just kick off now because what’s the use.
Morealso, the word “Care” has been twisted by adding the word “self” in front of it. Just as it is a great privilege to care for one’s own body, one’s own emotions and mind, so it is an even greater honor to care for another. It is dignifying, both to the other and the self. The person huddled in bed, strung up to every kind of machine, shouldn’t feel the victim, shouldn’t have to feel like a child. The great honor of caring for that person should be impressive. But of course it’s not, because we’re all sinners.
Seven
Sorry, I do deeply apologize for talking for Three Whole Days about Self Care. I will try to move on to other and more interesting subjects. In the meantime, go read more Takes. Kelly actually knows stuff about the medical world so I should just shut my trap. Actually, everyone probably knows more than me. So Sorry! Forgive me for being a condescending know it all baby!
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