Don't Cry On The Massage Table and Other Thoughts on Self-Care

The lemon earrings in the above picture will make sense later. But first, I have a story to tell you.

When my triplets were about 18 months, I went and splurged on a massage. Our financial situation at the time was a little different than it is now, so spending $75 on an hour massage kind of made me cringe a little (a lot) about all the diapers I could buy with that, (around 300) but Chris, my ever encouraging husband insisted, so I did.

I was lying face down on the table, about 15 minutes in and she starts to work on my shoulders. Her two hands hit these two different trigger spots on either side, and it was like some sort of magic button. Tears began to flow before I even knew what was happening. She kneaded this area in my shoulders and I cried and cried and cried. She had to stop and ask if I was OK.

I tried to pull it together, but actually, it kind of felt amazing to cry, in that moment, with knots being worked out of my shoulders. I did some kind of mumbled apology and she kindly told me I wasn’t the first person to cry during a massage and then continued on to another part of my back and just like that, flood of tears stopped.

As I lay there, with fresh emotions and time to think, I knew why I cried. My babies, 18 months ago, were born way before they were supposed to be born and some of them got super sick, and some of them couldn’t breath on their own, and some didn’t eat and one of them had surgery on their tiny, collapsed little lung, and week after week, I would pump milk out of my breasts at 2am, alone in my living room while my babies were still at the hospital, on monitors and tubes and machines and sonofabitch, it was really, really hard. And then they came home and there was no time to process any of that, we were in the thick of 24 bottles a day and diapers and baths and burping and laundry and no sleep and there is just no time for getting rid of all the angst and stress and worry you soaked up and then CARRIED AROUND IN YOUR SHOULDERS FOR A YEAR AND A HALF.

Our three little miracles on the day they were blessed. Shoulders probably also sore from carrying babies.

This woman is smiling, but also so tired and also so stressed.

That release, those balled up bunches of tight muscles in my shoulders was me trying to be strong and handle it all, and do it all and be it all and all that hype.  I did accept help. (I hope as graciously as I received it.) But I knew I had to change my attitude a little bit about this whole motherhood thing. Could I do it all? Maybe. (Actually, no Kara, you can’t. Be real.) OK, no. I couldn’t, and now I realized I couldn’t even pretend that I could. I was soaking in all my stress, leaving it just sitting up on those tired shoulders. I can’t have some spontaneous bout of emotions in front of a random (albeit kind) stranger while I’m naked under a sheet. Nope. That was not going to work.

So after that, I didn’t feel guilty about the $75 price tag. It was part of the genesis of my attitude about how important it was to take care of myself. And to be perfectly transparent and honest, I wish I could say that I schedule massages on a regular basis, but I don’t.  But I do happily go to yoga class, and my CrossFit class and go out on boat and row around the water for a while and meet up with my girlfriends almost every Monday night for a workout and dinner after. And I don't feel guilty about any of it. One of my favorite personal catch phrases is: "I'm a better mom when I sweat." This is my personal truth about how I take care of myself.  

One of my happy places where I can shed some of that motherhood stress right into that oar.

And I’m all about the teeniest of moments that look like self-care. Saying no to plans, accepting a compliment, leaving dishes in the sink on purpose while you enjoy your morning coffee, a salt bath with a book, watching a Parks and Rec episode in your closet with the last bag of Sun Chips, or maybe it's posting a selfie on your blog that you took 3 months ago, wearing adorable lemon earrings, because you think you look cute. It can be so many things! Whatever brings real pleasure to your most authentic self. To me, that is taking care. It's taking care of myself and everyone around me. Because you cannot effectively take care of a bunch of people that can’t take care of themselves if you are walking around with 100 pounds of angst, stress and worry on your back.

Doing my favorite things with my favorite people also count towards my cup of care being full!

So breathe baby. Drop all that stuff you’ve been carrying around. Breathe and let it go.  

This post was inspired by reminders from two of my favorite people. My cousin Candice and a podcast she was featured in and my little sister who just celebrated her birthday with a month of intention setting and taking care of herself through spirituality, healthy food and friendships. Thankful for all the good that flows into my orbit!