I still don't know how to answer, and yet it is the first question everybody asks when they hear I've lost my brother.
What AM I doing to take care of myself? I never know what to say.
Therapy. Lots of therapy.
Not doing stuff I hate.
As a working mother, I've been putting the oxygen mask on somebody else for so long I am struck dumb, utterly silenced, by this apparently essential question. Why is that? Why don't I remember how to take care of myself? Why are there no clear answers?
After 200 or so awkward moments after this question is asked, I started thinking about when it was that I actually knew how to take care of myself well. I was in my 20s, not so long ago. I was single. And then I wasn't. And then I had a baby, and nobody asked me then what I was doing to take care of myself. THAT is the time we should be taking the MOST care of ourselves. There's a basket you get from the hospital after having a baby. It's festive, full of washcloths, receiving blankets, diapers, wipes, pamphlets on breastfeeding and (alas) samples of formula. But nothing in it says: FIRST THINGS FIRST: TAKE CARE OF YOURSELF.