The English Word I Most Hate

Still not touching the immigration shouting with a ten foot pole. Better minds than mine have written all you want to hear. Instead, prepare yourself for a primal and devastating scream…ready?

I HATE THE RIDICULOUS COMPOUND WORD ‘SELF-CARE.’

Phew. I feel better. You’ve been so patient. But, for real, I desperately hate the word ‘self-care.’ I think it, more than anything, illustrates the topsy turvy character of modern western culture. Whereas before, say for several thousand years, people got up, ate some gruel, warmed their chilblained hands over the fire, trudged out to the field, stopped at some point to eat a dry hunk of bread, trudged back home at night, ate some more gruel, fell asleep on a hard plank, thereby making the body go on for yet another day through the business of eating food and growing food, now we have Self-Care.

I hate this word so much it’s hard for me to put all my thoughts and feelings into words, but don’t worry, I’m going to try. I’m going to try with all my might.

The first (don’t worry, I’m not going to get to a second) reason I hate this word is because, by its very use, it seems like a person has to justify the necessary activities required for basic sanity. Eating, bathing, sleeping, exercising, reading, hiding the totality of one’s Facebook feed–no longer are these taken for granted as the building blocks of civilized life, now we have to justify them, to make sure everyone else knows it’s ok that we’re doing them by using the fancy word ‘self-care’, as if, AS IF it would be ok Not to care of the self.

I suppose we could blame this strange required self justification on the puritans, but I don’t think, as they froze their way through that first winter, that they were wasting their energy justifying themselves. They were trying to survive. They might have been very strict, but they can’t be blamed for everything. Nor can we, I suppose, blame the prohibitionists, although I think this makes more sense. Demonizing the demon liquor did introduce some kind of weird poison into the American mind–or maybe it was already there because of the puritans. But I’ve noticed that true virtue, still, in American life requires that everyone know that you’re somehow suffering, you’re denying yourself something essential, even if you do it perfectly with Pinterest. The only way you can really enjoy whatever it is you happen to be enjoying is if you justify it somehow, especially with the word ‘self-care.’

Which means that the word, which is a stupid word anyway, gets so stretched as to include not just the basic requirements of a well ordered life and a sound mind, but actual indulgence. It’s not just that you eat food and chew it properly, and go to bed at a reasonable hour with an improving book, it’s also that you haul in a whole crate of wine, because Self Care, or go to a spa, because Self Care, or eat a bucket of ice cream, because Self Care. I’m probably guilty of the last one, which is ridiculous because I don’t even like ice cream that much.

Self indulgence shouldn’t be lumped into the same bucket as taking care oneself, but neither should a person get special points for the opposite, for so denying the needs of the body, and even the mind, that you end up a puddle on the floor, unable to put one foot in front of the other. Working So Much that you don’t have time to do anything else, exhausting yourself, filling up your mind with anxiety so that you never can go to sleep and are always walking around in a stupor, isn’t very much more sensible than eating your way through the freezer, or drinking a whole cabinet of Bailey’s.

It’s ok to go about the orderly business of caring for the body, and the mind, and the soul, without having to justify yourself every three minutes. Life shouldn’t have to be lived at break neck speed, exhausting yourself at work and then indulging yourself at home, swinging wildly between self denial and self gratification. You shouldn’t have to justify your shower and manicured toes and properly done hair and orderly house and biblically fed mind. Those things shouldn’t count as some kind of special treat beyond your grasp. You shouldn’t feel bad going out with friends, or making a nice meal, or taking the trouble to properly dice an onion. The ridiculous speed of modern life shouldn’t be counted as virtuous when it leaves you strung out, all your Inner Resources depleted.

If you don’t know how to find balance, try living through the church year. Try Fasting when it says to fast, and feasting when it says to Feast. If you don’t know how to find the line between self indulgence and self denial, try looking at the calm, orderly life of Jesus, who ate when he was hungry, slept when the storm was raging, but then died for the sake of everyone.

But that would mean chucking the word ‘self care,’ that foul idea that makes you the measure of your own life and your own needs. It opens the way to anxiety on one hand, and self justification on the other. Plus, the word Care is richer when applied to others. The Lord cares for you because he loves you, so you might care for others because of the full measure he has given you, pressed down, shaken together, pouring into your lap. Every moment in the shower, every bite of food, every interesting read, every good long walk is the Father caring for you, providing for you, making space for you. So then you can go and do that for others. You don’t have to grab the moments, justifying them because you don’t deserve them. They are already a gift. And so they are worth enjoying, attending to.

I suppose it feels like I am shouting at you, but really, as per usual, this is all about me and my stupid guilt. So now I’m going to eat breakfast, because Self Care. Sob.