Like most women, I was raised to put everyone else’s needs ahead of my own, or, at the very least, beat myself up unmercifully for not doing so. That was reinforced by the school system, American culture, Hollywood, and mass media in general. Being this way has become practically instinctual.
But as I learn more about myself as an autistic person, and more about the all but viral load of stress that comes with being on the spectrum, I’m starting to realize that something’s got to give. I have to start making self-care a top priority. Otherwise I won’t be good for myself or for anyone else.
So, on a recent Sunday, I took the day off work, and I did not allow myself to fill the time with errands and things that have been festering on my to-do list. And I absolutely refused to feel guilty about it. Nope. I didn’t even look at the accursed list. I didn’t get online. The bulk of the day, I left my phone off. And that was just the beginning.
I slept in. Then, dear husband made me a delicious breakfast, and had the good grace to GTFO for the rest of the day. (Actually, he was super busy, as per usual, so it’s not like he was moping on a park bench somewhere. He seems to be happiest when he’s busy. I can’t relate to that at all.)
So, after DH left, I set up my hammock in the back yard, beneath our ornamental cherry tree. I brought my weighted blanket with me to stave off the morning chill. I also brought two pillows, a little table, some water, a book, and a bowl of watermelon.
I decided to eat the watermelon first. That gave me time to settle in and enjoy the blue skies and the relative silence. There is a busy highway in front of our house, but you can’t see it from where I was, so I just pretended the traffic noise was ocean waves. It worked like a charm as long as no sirens came swimming past. But when that happened, I was entertained by my two dogs singing along. (Watermelon and a show!)
At one point, my whippet, Nutmeg, attempted to join me on the hammock. That would have been lovely had she chosen to lie down and snuggle. But no. She stood, stiff legged and shaking, rocking the hammock in unexpected ways, and then she finally jumped off.
The result of this was me pouring watermelon juice down the front of my shirt as the hammock unceremoniously flipped me to the ground. Fortunately, I didn’t have far to fall. No harm was done, so I could appreciate the humor in it while I went inside to clean up and change shirts.
I returned to the hammock, this time bringing a towel with me. I settled in once again, and gave Nutmeg a dirty look. This caused her to come over and kiss my foot and then observe me from a distance.
Now, oh God, to read. You have to understand. I love reading. In my single days I could go through 3 or 4 novels a week. I didn’t even have a television. On this day I planned to finish a book that I had been reading on and off for about 10 months. I dove into this book like a thirsty man who finds a water hole at a desert oasis.
The book in question was The Library Book, by Susan Orlean. She’s one of my favorite authors. She always picks intriguing, unusual topics, and everything she writes is entertaining and enlightening.
This book was the perfect one to feed my book craving, because it’s about libraries and the love thereof. It’s also about the catastrophic fire in 1986 at the Los Angeles Public Library. It talks about the anatomy of that fire, and the investigation of fires in general. It also talks about the restoration of books and the unusual life of the most likely suspect. I was engrossed.
I woke up several hours later, realizing I had gotten about 50 pages in, and then drifted off with the book on my chest. The weather was perfect. The wind gently rocked the hammock. The waves crashing on my faux beach hypnotized me, and the book transported me. I’m sure I will always count this among the ten best naps of my life.
The sun had made quite a bit of progress across the sky, so I decided to read until my shade disappeared about an hour later. That was just enough time to finish the book. Then, I got up to discover that my other dog, Coda, had been napping underneath the hammock that entire time. (I have never felt so protected by a dog in my life.)
I disassembled the hammock and put it away so the dogs don’t eat it (and trust me, they would have), and I went inside and heated up some leftover pizza and entertained myself by sitting on the back patio to watch the birds do their birdy things. And then I went inside and took a nap. (Don’t be a hater.)
As I was drifting off, I thought about how lucky I was to have the luxury of an entire day of self-indulgence. On that day, even though it was a Sunday, I’d bet about half the planet was working. Another big slice would be those caring for children or the elderly or those with health issues. Or they might have health issues themselves. Or they were so desperately poor that their entire existence revolved around fetching water and obtaining food. And then there were the many people caught in war zones or stuck in refugee camps, and those who were wasting their time on the internet. Then there are all the women who haven’t figured out that they deserve self-care, and all those people, like my husband, who couldn’t slow down if their lives depended on it.
I could easily imagine that I was the only person in the world who was taking care of myself and rewarding myself for merely existing. I know I’ve done nothing to deserve this privilege, but I refused to feel guilty about it. And just like that, I was asleep once again.
I woke up at about 3 o’clock, and the sun had moved far enough across the sky that our back patio was shaded, so I set up my painting project there. For about two years, I’ve been working on (and off) making a new and improved, colorful and gigantic little free library to replace the one in my front yard. (I guess the book loving theme followed me through the day.)
I love to paint. I always fantasize that when (if) I retire, I’ll take painting lessons (in between books and travel). I put it off because it’s such an expensive pursuit. And clearly, I already have enough issues with time management without adding a whole new activity to my roster.
Currently, I lack the talent to make an image inside my head come to life on a canvas. What I can do, though, is be inspired by graphics that I find on the computer, combine them into one vision, and alter the colors to my liking. It may come out looking like art you’d put on your refrigerator door, but it makes me happy. I can lose hours while painting. I get in the zone.
And that’s where I was when dear husband came home. He started on a few projects of his own, because “unwind” is not part of his vocabulary. Then, as the sun started to set, he made us a wonderful dinner, and we cuddled on our double wide recliner and watched a film by a quirky production company called A24. They make the weirdest movies you’ll ever see in your life, and most of them are fantastic. Some of them are just weird, and that makes them worthwhile, too. I love having my mind blown.
I remember thinking, as I got ready for bed that night, that I couldn’t remember the last time I was this relaxed. And indeed, I was much more productive for days after that. Usually I just try to push through my stress until I’m so overwhelmed that I am practically paralyzed. Then I start flagellating myself for being unable to get my… self together.
This self-care thing has potential. It still doesn’t come naturally, but I’m willing to keep practicing, believe you me. Wish me luck, dear reader, and consider trying a little self-care, too, if you can. You’ll be amazed at the results.
An attitude of gratitude is what you need to get along. Read my book! http://amzn.to/2mlPVh5
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