My Summer of Self-Care

The term “self-care” isn’t totally accurate here. My summer was less of a watered down version of self-care like bubble-baths and massages (although, I love both!) and more of a summer of resetting my nervous system (it just doesn’t have the same catchiness for a title).

This summer, when I saw many mothers on social media stating that they were excited to have their kids home from school, my youngest was transitioning to full-time daycare, along with his brother, so that I could have more time for teaching and researching.

This was the first time in five years that I would have full-time childcare for both of my children!

I spent a lot of the past year thinking and talking through my new identity which was largely operating around my roles and responsibilities of mother, wife, and educator. But I was mostly left wondering: Who was I outside of being a mother? Motherhood is the most significant and meaningful part of my life, but I wanted to remember who I was beyond, or, in addition to it.

I found myself in a place of uncertainty, unsure of who I was outside of the roles I inhabited. I questioned what I valued or even believed in anymore. I questioned what I wanted out of life. I struggled to remember what brought me real joy and pleasure. And I struggled to see a wider perspective of life beyond its daily demands. The challenges were numerous: raising two babies two years apart, coping with the pandemic’s chaos, moving to a new town, being away from family and friends, patching together part-time teaching positions, and beginning a new graduate program. I was navigating so many major life shifts in a short amount of time. It often felt like finding joy, pleasure, or rest was swallowed up in the relentless demands of the moment, each one cascading into the next.

As a mother who struggled with postpartum anxiety and depression after both of my babies were born, my experience of motherhood seemed like it was always clouded by the stress, overstimulation, and constant overwhelm. There were many times, especially when I was home alone with a new baby and an energetic toddler, that I couldn’t associate anything with motherhood other than the constant demands and isolation. It was hard to find time for anything outside of my workload, or household chores, or getting snack after snack. I always thought of myself as a free-spirit before kids, and not that I wanted to go back to being childless, but I certainly wanted to bring some of that into my life again.

So when my youngest switched from three to five days at our daycare center with his older brother, I had more time to complete my work in a reasonable schedule and more time to decompress from the stimulation and demands of motherhood. I also, finally, had some more time to seek out that joy and pleasure. For the first time since having children, this summer I had enough time to complete all of my work/home/mothering responsibilities, and even a little time leftover, which gave me the much-needed breathing space I needed (quite literally). 

So my “self-care” looked like sneaking away to the beach to read a fun novel before daycare pick-up, spending a few extra minutes in the gym just because I could, scheduling dates with my husband, and buying a few new clothes that made me feel sexy–something I haven’t felt in quite some time either.

It was also the less-glamorous self-care activities that helped me heal and regulate my nervous system over this summer–like making sure I scheduled therapy appointments in advance, exercising consistently, journaling to see my jumbled thoughts laid out in front of me on paper, using the sauna, taking a nap or doing a yoga nidra meditation, tracking my menstrual cycle to understand my emotions and energy levels, and often (my favorite!) just lying in a dark, cool, quiet room without any audio or visual stimulation. Or, my other favorite, wearing cozy, fuzzy socks. Sometimes it was lighting a candle–because I didn’t have to worry about a small child knocking it over–or adding in a few lemons and cucumber slices to my water just because I enjoy the taste. I sought ways to perform these small acts of kindness toward myself.

In doing these practices, I prioritized my needs which helped me be able to reframe my hardships around motherhood not as weaknesses or deficits, but rather as just being too stimulated and in need of some groundedness. And it’s not that I haven’t done many of these activities before having children or before this summer, but finally having full-time childcare gave me more time and freedom to intentionally do them without getting interrupted (of course, for more snacks!). It gave me the embodied sense that so much of my struggle was just needing to regulate my nervous system and just having time to think about or do things that did not involve motherhood.

I’ve felt more like myself post-becoming-a-mother than I ever have. I feel like I am tapped in again to what Audre Lorde calls the “erotic” as the “assertion of the lifeforce of women,” not as something (only) sexual, but as an embodied sense of our creativity and our power. This full, rejuvenated, and steady lifeforce energy is the place from which I want to engage with my children, my partner, my extended family, my friends, my students, and my colleagues.

And of course, as my summer of self-care ended, the early whisperings of fall has brought more schedule changes, new routines, a big transition to kindergarten, and more. I remind myself of these tiny gifts I gave to myself this summer–nourishment and care–without judgment and without guilt (note: you won’t find an ounce of mom guilt written about here!). And remember the small things I can do to tap into that erotic, life-force energy. I find ways to carry these activities over into this new season of demands, to-do lists, and tumult. I ease myself into it: fortified, regulated, and of course, deeply committed to continuing these self-care practices and deeply grateful for their power. 

I hope that you, whichever season of life you are in, are able to find ways to tend and nourish yourself too.