Are these assumptions REALLY true?
Over the past few weeks our newsletter theme has been self-care.
Carers need self-care. We ALL need self-care.
As you know, I’ve recently moved house: from the suburbs to the CBD; from a relatively isolated existence to a relatively collective and communal existence.
I’ve used the change as an opportunity to reflect on some of my own assumptions about what self-care is and how it might work better for me.
Assumption #1. Self-care is a ‘good thing’.
If care is a good thing then self-care, along with the care of others, must also be good things. And good things by definition are things that we all want and need to some degree and should encourage for ourselves and those around us.
Assumption #2. Self-care is an ‘adult’ skill and state of mind.
We don’t expect babies to show self-care. In fact, babies have to be on the receiving end of care; without proper care they die.
As they grow up, their needs change and so the care that they need changes, as does their capacity to care for others and themselves.
It’s a parent’s task to evolve with their child, to ensure their child’s safety through maintaining a delicate balance between boundaries and freedom.
Assumption #3. Self-care is a skill that can be learned.
As a baby grows into a toddler who grows into a child who grows into a teenager who grows into a young adult who eventually becomes a mature adult who repeats the process for the next generation, that baby has different needs.
Or perhaps it would be more accurate to say that as a baby grows into an adult, their needs for safety, security and communication grow and change.
these needs - for safety, security and communication - are constant, the way a child - and later an adult - expresses these needs is affected by many things including their stage of development.
For example, I remember being a young mother with a new baby in suburban Wales. A top concern was a comfortable pram for the baby and where said comfortable pram might be safely located. Later, when the baby had outgrown the pram and still needed to be kept safe, holding hands while crossing a main road became a priority. And still later, as my teenage children began to spend more time outside the home in the company of their friends, I spent hours agonising over what they could safely be encouraged to do and what boundaries I, as a parent, could morally and logistically assert.
Assumption #4. Self-care comes easier to some than to others.
We don’t have a lot of difficulty in recognising that some children take more easily to sports and others seem destined to live with their heads in a book; some have dark hair and others are fair; some like the sea while others prefer the mountains.
I’ve heard Gabor Mate, physician and educator, explain his belief that although he can see the funny side of life as well as the next person, yet his somewhat morose expression stems from his traumatic reaction to being (as he experienced it) abandoned by his mother when he was only 11 mon
My point is that because we are all different, it is no surprise that our adult capacities for self-care differ immensely from one person to another. ths old.
Our experiences affect us and we all have different experiences of life.
How does this apply when we engage in our dementia marathon?
So where do we go from her?
I was thinking of ending with a question we might all ask ourselves that may give us greater clarity: a question like, what is the smallest change I can easily make to my current circumstances that will encourage me to a higher level of self-care?
That’s a question I’ve found gives me some clarity about my next step. If it makes sense to you, please go for it.
But if it seems too vague then try this one.
Consider the four assumptions above. Which of them do you agree with? And which of them do you disagree with?