Making Space for Self-Care

I started reading again. 

I suppose that isn’t surprising. It’s the fact I stopped reading that is surprising. 

I am known for reading. Like, all the time. My parents used to demand that I watch a movie with the family and without a book. They grounded me from reading as a punishment. I often reward myself with reading for doing usual daily tasks. I consider reading on my darkened Kindle screen in bed to be essentially directed sleeping.  

Dreaming, really. 

Lately? I haven’t been able to focus enough to read.  

I didn’t realize it, though.  

I made up a lot of objectively true reasons for no longer reading: my smart phone has ruined me and made me jump from electronic activity to electronic activity. I’m too tired. I need to get other things done. I can listen to an audiobook and still “read” as I fall asleep.  

Maybe I just got tired of reading?  

A Chance Meeting 

At Daisy’s dance recital this past spring, I ran into another ballet mom I hadn’t seen in a couple of years. As we chatted and traded war stories, she mentioned that she realized that, after two rough years, she really needed to practice self-care. Once she began to take care of herself, her family members all did better; “When Mom starts taking care of herself, everyone else in the family does better, too!” Marina told me with a laugh.  

Self-care.  

Years ago, my sister-in-law Beata started asking me...

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