
If there is any current word (excluding names of politicians) in the English language that makes me ready to chew nails, it is self care. Get ready, this post is a serious rant; it’s going to be worse than my comments on the price of bubble tea and, for that matter, bubble tea itself. This blog post contains material that may be unsuitable for delicate, un-cataracted eyes.
Let’s just start with the spelling of self care. My grammar correction function says it should be hyphenated. That gives it legitimacy. I-refuse.
If self care ever had legitimacy, it is lost. Modern ‘Self care’ was made up by some clever marketing-person and is now attached to product sales to make-fortunes by selling us overpriced make-up, lounge outfits, candles, flotation tanks, apps, and strange (but compelling) items for the kitchen.
Do I believe that we ought to take care of ourselves? Of-course. Do I think it is easy to know how to care for oneself? No, at least it hasn’t been easy for me, and the soy, pumpkin-vanilla-turmeric scented candles haven’t gotten me any closer to the peace of mind I desire. I like facials, yoga pants, and new lip gloss as much as anyone, and I also have a shelf full of jigsaw puzzles, but if those things are supposed to translate into taking care of myself, I need subtitles. What I’m trying to say is that this type of self care is either product sales or indulgence. I’m into both concepts; It’s just not self care. I’ll ask my friend Maddy, the social worker, to explain real self care. She would be good at it. She knows that sort of thing and secretly believes in it.
My rant is not-over. Even if you are not as judgmental as I am (and few people can match me in being ‘judgey”). “Don’t forget self care” is the sort of bullshit people tell you to do when you are stressed and overwhelmed, and when they aren’t going to help you very much. When my friend Karen’s father was diagnosed with dementia and her mother was unable to handle his care, bubble tea and a pedicure somehow didn’t quite cut it, but her women friends (it kills me that mostly women promote self care) offered that advice regularly. Result? It added to the aloneness.
Okay, small children can return to the computer.
Come back next Tuesday. My friend Maddy will explain what real self care is all about.
Maddy is also in the novel, Not The Trip We Planned, coming in March, 2025. I’m glad I have her company – maybe that’s my self-care. I'm told the novel has received several endorsements without resorting to blackmail. Christina Shaver, the filmmaker https://www.imdb.com/name/nm6371537/, said, "This book flies by, driven by the sharp dialogue and the authentic connections that form when we truly let someone see us for who we are. Not the Trip We Planned is as much about the mysteries of family, friendship, and self-discovery as it is about unraveling the circumstances of Edward’s death — a perfect blend of page-turning intrigue and emotional resonance." The book is available for pre-order at
If you already saw this post, sorry. The website has been giving me problems so I am reposting the last few.
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