Changing the World with a Hot Bath

I haven’t been able to write on here in a while. I’m going through some “stuff” that has been the source of great brokenness, as well as great growth. It has sapped every bit of my emotional energy, of which I need plenty of to write.

Just recently, I began writing personal things again. They are largely disjointed and fraught with emotion and not for public consumption.

But I keep thinking about this spot, my little corner of the internet. The reality is, it’s kind of dusty around here. Like an abandoned house, this blog is filled with white sheet shrouded paragraphs, creaky sentences, broken windows into my bruised little heart.

This morning I was wondering, what can I write about here? What can I share that isn’t more than I’m willing to expose of my story as it bleeds into the stories of others.

And what came to mind was the idea of self-care.

When I first started going to counseling nearly 10 years ago, self-care was one of the first things that clicked with me. I remember my counselor helping me re-frame what it meant to take care of myself. To stop thinking of being “selfish” as a bad thing.

Flash forward to a few months ago, when grief rushed in to every part of me, self-care was literally the only thing that made sense. The only thing that still makes sense.

Self-care is making up my bed every morning, because I deserve a space of crisp sheets and peace.

It is doing the dishes and vacuuming, because I deserve a place of order and calm, even when nobody else is coming over to enjoy it.

It is buying fresh flowers, because even as sadness has churned my insides into a dark mess, a spot of beauty on my dining room table makes me smile.

It is cooking ridiculously complicated foods, because losing myself in the steam that billows from a pot on my stove feels better than losing myself in unhealthy thoughts. (And it’s much better tasting.)

It is going on long hikes, because grass-scented breezes swirling around me always feel like they carry away a bit of the sadness that I often feel cloaked in.

It is spending a ridiculous amount of money getting my couch cushions re-stuffed and buying a new mattress, because I need to remember that investing in things like rest and comfort are okay.

It is visiting friends in other states, because I need distance and space and someone waiting on the other side to hug me and call me “petal” and make me coffee and sit with me in the sadness.

I’m curious. Are you taking care of yourself today? What little thing helps you remember that you’re worth nurturing?





Published by Brandy

I'm a full-time writer, part-time baker, and not-enough-time runner.

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