I love the idea of self-care.
Huge fan.
Ten out of ten.
Highly recommend.
In theory.
I know it's important.
I've read the articles.
I've listened to the podcasts.
I've probably even written a few things about it myself.
Drink water.
Get enough sleep.
Moisturize.
Stretch.
Take breaks.
Eat vegetables.
Move your body.
Take a bath.
Journal.
Meditate.
Breathe.
Honestly...
Being alive is a full-time job.
And I genuinely mean to do all of it.
Sometimes...
I actually do.
Those are magical days.
Every once in a while I'll have what I call...
A Responsible Woman Evening.
You know the one.
I take a long shower.
Exfoliate.
Moisturize.
Oil my cuticles.
Do a face mask.
Put lotion on every square inch of my body.
Massage my feet.
Drink water.
Light a candle.
By the time I crawl into bed...
I'm basically a dolphin.
Soft.
Hydrated.
Thriving.
The next morning...
I wake up convinced...
"This is who I am now."
Clearly I've become one of those women.
The kind who has routines.
The kind who owns matching towels.
The kind who says things like,
"I never skip my nighttime skincare."
I've evolved.
I've arrived.
I've become...
Her.
Narrator:
She had not become her.
Three weeks later...
I'll catch a glimpse of the lotion bottle sitting exactly where I left it.
Dusty.
Unopened.
Looking at me like,
"Well...this is awkward."
The funny thing is...
It isn't that I stop caring.
I don't wake up and think,
"You know what?
My skin has had enough luxury."
No.
I simply...
Forget.
Not just the lotion.
The entire concept of self-care.
It's like it quietly leaves my brain.
One day I'm carefully applying serums with ingredients I can't pronounce.
The next...
I'm using my jeans to wipe my hands because I can't remember where I put the towel.
Sometimes I remember.
I'll be sitting on the couch.
Completely out of nowhere my brain announces,
"You have skin."
...
Oh.
Right.
I do have skin.
That's probably worth looking into.
Then I become deeply invested.
I suddenly remember that skin is...
You know...
An organ.
The largest organ, in fact.
This miraculous thing that's been faithfully protecting me every single day while I've been treating it like an afterthought.
So out comes the lotion.
The body oil.
The fancy face cream I bought because Future Tracy was definitely going to become a skincare girl.
For one glorious evening...
I'm radiant.
Moisturized.
Positively glowing.
Then...
Life happens.
Books to write.
Dogs to feed.
Laundry to ignore.
Emails to answer.
Coffee to drink.
Kevin the squirrel inevitably has another glitter pants emergency.
And somehow...
Moisturizing quietly slips off tomorrow's to-do list.
I've realized something over the years.
My self-care doesn't disappear because I don't value myself.
It disappears because my brain naturally prioritizes...
Everyone else.
The next task.
The next deadline.
The next thing.
I become so focused on living my life...
That I forget I'm the one living it.
The older I've gotten, the more I've tried to change that.
Not by creating the world's most complicated self-care routine.
Let's be honest.
I'd abandon it by Thursday.
But by remembering one simple thing.
I deserve care...
Even when no one is watching.
Especially then.
Some days self-care looks like a luxurious bath.
Some days it looks like putting on lotion.
Some days it looks like drinking enough water.
Some days it looks like going to bed before midnight instead of watching raccoons wash grapes on YouTube.
Progress comes in many forms.
So no...
I'm probably never going to be one of those women whose skincare products are lined up in perfect color order on a marble countertop.
I'm probably always going to have phases.
Weeks where I remember.
Weeks where I don't.
And honestly...
I'm learning to be okay with that.
Because taking care of yourself isn't something you either succeed or fail at.
It's something you simply come back to.
Again.
And again.
And again.
Kind of like my lotion.
It patiently waits for me.
Knowing...
Eventually...
I'll remember I have skin.
