How to take care of yourself
LOLOLOLOLOL JUST KIDDING
LIKE I WOULD KNOW!
When I started therapy in 2021 my therapist gently gave me a hard time for not knowing how to participate in self-care. Then I told her about how I love strongly implied that everything I do is selfish because I only have to take care of myself. It felt shitty then and it feels worse now, because I am an active member of several communities, occasionally struggle to take care of myself (eat salad, set boundaries, be a good listener, give yourself and your time) while being pulled to care for the people around me (who I don’t really want to take care of, being old and sharing a lease doesn’t make me your parent). Sure, I’d like a family if my own but it’s cruel to suggest I’m a bad person for not having one. (It’s selfless to opt out of raising children.)
(After some gentle unraveling she implied I’ve been taking care of myself for longer than I’d like to realize, and we certainly are not talking about that here, now.)
LaVonne (I think it’s funny to call my mother by her first name, she does not) would recommend reading a book. Or maybe some poetry. Like the Internet, she is also a fan of Mary Oliver. She loves Edna St. Vincent-Millay. (I like Edna too, and I like that Edna drank Bourbon out of teal tea cups.) It’s always safe to read Beverly Clearly.
Last summer’s reading is still recommended. I stand by Barbara Streisand reading her own memoir and We Have Always Lived In the Castle by Shirley Jackson. (I have the rest of Jackson’s catalog on hold.)
I am currently reading The Berry Pickers which I do not recommend for self-care, but recommend in general. (It’s about a First Nations woman who was abducted as a child and the devastation that rippled through her family.) I was treated to a rift in the space time continuum today, wherein I read a lot of it on the train and was still at work on time.
Friday I made taco hot dish, Oreo fluff, and pumpkin syrup. I bake when I’m anxious, a habit I picked up after I graduated from college. But my roommate is always on the phone, and that won’t serve me well Tuesday. (I haven’t decided what to bake for the swim, anyway.)
So I don’t know what feels right for you this week, but go forth and do it. Booze? Fine. Fighting in the bike lane? Obviously endorsed. You can text me if you want. I might have the covers pulled over my head by 9 p.m. It’s not like we’ll have an inkling at 10 p.m. anyway. Do what you must and know that I love you.
Dribs and Drabs
In 2016 I went to Butter and Scotch. When things went south I went home and spent an ungodly amount of money on cactus seeds from seedman.com. I buy seeds from them every November for my birthday. I find growing seeds extremely pleasurable when it’s slow and indoors.
The quasi face masks suck, but if I find good ones in Koreatown I’ll let you know.
Always your friend,
Katherine
Sources
No sources this week, I wrote this on the R train and then at the bar.