When Self Care Isn’t Enough

I used to think being strong meant nothing bothered you. Like Wonder Woman, you were able to deflect all that tried to bring you down. Or similar to body builders who keep telling their spotters to add more weights to their barbells, people could continue to place their burdens on your shoulders and you’d never break a sweat.

For years, I tried to be this person.

To carry responsibilities that weren’t mine when others were struggling. To hold the grief, heartache, or pain of those I cared about. To keep the world from falling a part (as if I could). To pretend I wasn’t as effected by all of it as I was. And I did this extremely well, until I didn’t.

As much as I wanted to be, I wasn’t Wonder Woman. I wasn’t even Super Woman.

Until I could no longer keep all the balls I was juggling up in the air. When parts of my life I believed were inevitable, began to unravel. And when I finally realized I wasn’t as strong as I thought I was. As much as I wanted to be, I wasn’t Wonder Woman. I wasn’t even Super Woman.

I was taking care of everyone else, while hoping someone would take of me.

Only when you find yourself single, living alone, far away from family, and sick for the fourth time in four months, you realize—something has to give. Someone has to take care of me, and it might as well be me.

Back then, I hated the term “self care,” but I began to learn it’s importance. I started eating healthier meals, and taking a real day off each week.

These new habits made a significant difference in my life. However, the me who wants you to believe I am strong, wants to tell you, everything was smooth sailing after that. It wants to tell you that just a few solid self care practices like eating well, taking bubble baths, and going for walks will solve everything in your life. But it won’t. For me, it didn’t.

Part me wants to tell you that just a few solid self care practices like eating well, taking bubble baths, and going for walks will solve everything in your life. But it won’t. For me, it didn’t.

As powerful as taking care of our physical bodies can be, many of us are carrying grief, pain, and other emotional wounds deep down in our souls. And most of us were told that being strong, meant holding them to ourselves. To not talk about them. That nobody wants to hear our hurt. But there are not enough spa days, Whole30’s, or visits to the gym, that can take away the brokenness we have within.

Last weekend, I streamed the If Gathering online. It’s a yearly conference for women, and in the first session they had a round table discussion of therapists and psychologists. They were talking about the effects the pandemic has had on our lives. And Dr. Anita Phillips said something that caught me off guard. She said as we are reaching the anniversary of the beginning of the pandemic, our bodies may experience residual effects of the trauma we went through a year ago.

My first thought was, “Great.”

Just as we think we are seeing a light at the end of this very long tunnel, another wave of emotions may be coming our way. Dr. Phillips went on to encourage the listeners to have grace with themselves if during this time, they’re feeling more tired or simply not themselves. But as she said these words, I thought about those of us who went into this pandemic already carrying heartache. Perhaps pain we hadn’t shared with others yet. Or even, old wounds we didn’t know we had. Then the weight of the pandemic, brought it all to the surface.

Until we take out our broken hearts and share them with a therapist or trusted friend, we can never unload the weight that comes with them.

If this was you, you may have tried to burry it back deep down inside. To go on being “the strong one” for the other people in your life. Maybe you even began a new self care routine and called yourself good. Only, until we take out our broken hearts and share them with a therapist or trusted friend, we can never unload the weight that comes with them.

After I began my new “healthier” life, depression came knocking on my door. At first it was a light tapping. Then it started pounding. I could no longer ignore the pain in my chest. I had to get help.

True strength is not pretending we’re unaffected by our brokenness. It’s naming it, and asking for help when we need it.

Since then, in counseling, I have not only found a healing path for my brokenness, but I have also discovered what true strength really is. It’s not pretending we’re unaffected by our brokenness. It’s naming it, and asking for help when we need it.