You need to take care of yourself.
Last week, I spent time in Virginia Beach among a group of beautiful souls—all of them smart, talented women in mid-life, with careers in academia, science, engineering, writing, and coaching.
It was marvelous to be in the company of women, and there’s a lot I want to write about that some other time. But today, I want to talk about why I went on this trip in spite of there being an urgent family issue that was calling for attention.
My mother was diagnosed with Stage 4 cancer about 5 days before I was supposed to leave for Virginia. It had always been my plan to spend a full 7 days in VA Beach, then drive on down to South Carolina to visit with mom and check on her in her recent widowhood. (Dad died suddenly on March 5th of this year.)
My initial impulse was to cancel my trip and go straight to South Carolina—to spring into action mode, and be there with mom as she navigated doctor’s appointments. Because that’s what I do, and probably what you would do too, right?
When someone we love needs assistance, we immediately spring into action.
But as I wrote in a post two weeks ago, immediate action isn’t always helpful.
It occurred to me that with this sudden shift in the landscape of our lives, I’d have to spend quite a lot of time in South Carolina this year. I can’t be in SC full-time because I have doctor’s appointments and pre-scheduled plans that require me to be at home or elsewhere.
It would also be completely unfair to my sweetheart—and to me—to make caretaking into my nearly full-time job. (I am fortunate that my actual coaching activities can be conducted from anywhere there’s WiFi—and the benefits of working in this way is another thing I will write about some other time.)
I took a deep breath, and asked myself what my own wants and needs are.
Since my brother was available to be with mom at her first appointment with an oncologist, I opted to go to Virginia Beach as a way of gathering and grounding myself before heading to South Carolina for multiple weeks involving many medical appointments as we work to figure out her (limited) options and get her set up for palliative care.
There is no cure available for mom, and, frankly, she’s not likely to be here for many more months.
But rushing to be with her, without giving myself time to assess my own boundaries and boost my own energy and strength, made little sense. So I compromised, and went to the beach for five days, instead of seven. And I found that I was really good with that decision—and my mom was actually super happy that I made that choice, because she didn’t want me to drop all my plans. (Another thing I may write a post about some other time—because nobody wants to feel like a burden or obligation, or like they caused you to give up your own life.)
While I was in Virginia Beach with those nine other women, there was lots of time for writing or journaling or walking on the beach. And plenty of deep, rich conversation.
One day as I was eating some lunch, I overheard two women at the far end of the long table talking about caretaking, and one of them said something that immediately struck me, to the point that I opened my phone and put it in my notes.
She was talking about a friend who had fallen ill, and said, “She’s always been the one taking care of everybody. I don’t think anybody even thinks of taking care of her.”
“She’s always been the one taking care of everybody. I don’t think anybody even thinks of taking care of her.”
Friends, I recognized myself in that quote. And it is quite possible—even likely—that you recognize yourself there as well.
The thing is, nobody is going to think about taking care of you if you don’t think about taking care of yourself.
Other people won’t know to take care of you, or how to take care of you, unless you have already given some thought to taking care of yourself.
You need to take care of yourself.
Not just because it will allow you to take care of others, but also because you deserve to be cared for.
If that feels confronting, then ask yourself why it is that you don’t think you deserve to be cared for, or taken care of. Why do you deserve less than anyone else in your life, or in this world?
I suggest journaling on that, or setting up a coaching call if you’d like to explore that with some assistance.
