When the new year started, I had big plans. I would keep up with a 40,000 word a month writing schedule, go to the gym twice a week, and make a point of attending more local in-person events. I also decided that this was the year I got my finances under control.
Well, here at the end of January, I’m finding that it has gone … ok? I’ve basically hit my writing goal, though I’ve kind of left it to the last minute, which was not my intention at the beginning of the month. I’ve missed entire weeks at the gym, though I did get back to it this week. I attended one in-person event, and went out on one date, but bailed on a couple of other things I’d planned to do. I had good reasons, but that’s really besides the point.
So, if I were still a teacher, I’d give myself a solid C. Not a C+. Possibly a C-, but I will be kind and say it is a C. And this is fine, but obviously, I can do better.
As last year ended, and I finished school, I gave myself a couple of weeks off. This is what I usually do in December, but this year I found it incredibly hard to take the time off. I was bored, basically. And when I get bored my brain starts filling in the edges with a lot of excess thoughts, mostly anxious ones. But I followed my therapist’s advice and just took the time off. I read a lot. I went hiking. I took a lot of naps. I mean, so many naps you wouldn’t believe it. The truth was, I was tired and giving myself a break after months of hard work was exactly what I needed to do, no matter how hard it felt to really sink into that.
But the intention was that in January, I was going to start kicking ass again. This is a New Year, New Me situation. I was out from under a lot of the stress I’d been enduring. School was over for the foreseeable future. I had goals. This went fine for a week, and about the middle of the month I ran out of steam. I started making excuses for not working during my scheduled work time. I took any old excuse I could find to avoid going to the gym. The weather kept me inside and out of my hiking boots for a lot of the time. I started chickening out of going to things I had once been looking forward to.
And yes, I know giving myself shit for all of this was not helpful. But my habit of extending kindness to myself was leading me to believe all my own excuses, which was when I had a revelation. Being kind to yourself does not preclude holding yourself accountable for some very reasonable goals you intend to achieve. Being kind to yourself means treating every day as a new beginning and not being burdened by yesterday’s failures. It was not kind to let myself off the hook for things I needed to do. That was leading to depression, when I looked at all the lost time and wasted days.
And no, this advice is not good for most people. Most people need to give themselves a fucking break. But I’ve learned enough about myself that I knew I didn’t need that. I needed to hold myself accountable for my intentions. This is hard, because I know the dude who set those goals, and let me tell you, he is full of shit a lot of the time.
Last year, being kind to myself was very important. I endured loss after loss and even thought for a while that I could be really sick. Last year was not the time to kick my own ass. Survival was enough of a victory. But this year, why did I survive if it wasn’t to accomplish the things I want to accomplish? Nothing I was asking of myself was unreasonable. It was all vital, fulfilling work. Why couldn’t I make myself do it?
So, I had a conversation with all the mes that make up my personality (It’s a whole thing there’s like 8 of them and I will not get into it in public but look up internal family systems if you’re curious). I shared my struggle with my writing group, and they were supportive. For once in my life, I needed to be harder on myself.
So, I decided that I would do my best to adhere to my very reasonable schedule. I would go to the gym when it was time. I would stop backing out of social things that I had put on my calendar. On days it was too cold to walk, I would walk on the treadmill at the gym. I would schedule everything for the hours in the day I am most able to do them, and let myself have most mornings off, which would remove some of the pressure around sleep. I needed to develop three skills. Strength, Endurance, and Resilience. Strength is both physical and mental, the power to get the job done. Endurance is to keep doing it for long enough stretches, and Resilience is bouncing back when I get off track.
Basically, what I’d done in recovering from last year, was I had infantilized myself. I’d stopped regarding myself as a person who was capable of accomplishing my goals. Once again, my goals were super reasonable. I was not asking myself for the moon here. And for this moment, part of self-care was holding myself accountable. I was not a wreck. I was a bad-ass, and it was time to start acting like it.
So, this week hasn’t gone perfectly, but I’ve done much better. I really like all the things I’m asking myself to do, and I am incredibly happy when I have done them. It is extremely helpful to my mental health, which can sometimes be a shit show. Kicking my own ass is self-care, apparently.
How long will I keep this up? We’ll see. I know myself well enough to notice when actual exhaustion sets in, and I’ve built a lot of rest time into my weeks. I want to spend 8 hours drafting, and four hours editing every week. That is a 12-hour work week. That is not hard. I want to go to the gym for two hours twice a week (One hour every session is spent on the treadmill so don’t get excited). I will stop backing out of social things. I owe it to myself to become the person that I am capable of becoming. Of course, this will always be a work in progress. There is no destination, it’s journeys all the way down. But for, right now, self-care is looking at myself in the face and saying, “You can do this.”
And you know what, for the first time in a long time, I’m pretty sure I’m right.