The Real Act of Self-Care

Margaret Egan - Footfalls Echo in the Memory

4 minute read time

Self-care. The words have a powerful effect on my body; they make it contract. Because whilst I acknowledge the importance of self-care, it has become, over the years, yet another thing I should be doing, yet another thing I could be better at.

At the heart of self-care is being able to ask for what you need. And knowing what you need, which isn’t always that straightforward. Trusting my emotional expressions is one of my great lessons. I’m not there yet. I’m not sure I’ll ever be there. I’m not even sure what there means or where it is.

And yet I have made a couple of advancements over the years. The first was in my thirties when I learned how to meditate. How astonishing to find this place inside me that was so peaceful and so calm. It was almost uncomfortable at first. Is this my soul, I asked the teacher and she nodded and I was stunned into silence. I liked my soul. Hell, I thought it was beautiful. I practised daily and over time I was able to gain some distance from my thoughts, and in doing so, a little mastery over them. Now, whenever I feel overwhelmed I say my mantra and I am able to access a stronger, clearer version of myself almost immediately.

And then I became a mother and realised during those first sleepless months that ten minutes of meditation did more for me than thirty minutes of sleep. It was also in early motherhood that I began to realise that the voice I used to soothe my baby, could also be used to soothe me too. Which brings me to my second advancement. Now, whenever I feel a meltdown coming on I summon this voice and it is amazing the effect it has on me. It doesn’t give out to me, tell me what to do or try to talk me down. Half the time it simply acknowledges how I feel and – and here’s the miracle - that is all I need.

Is this self-care? I suppose it is. And yet to talk of self-care in a pandemic feels like a luxury, or at worst a bad joke.

How irritating, how insulting, to pick up a newspaper and be told that you should try, if you loved yourself at all, to shower every day. Can you imagine someone suggesting this to a man? Why not? Is it possible that Irish women aren’t engaging in acts of self-care because they don’t have time?

In the workshops I give, which are almost always attended exclusively by women, I have learnt that the key to a woman’s self-worth lies in her ability to stand up for herself, to say the uncomfortable truths. Nothing is more fortifying and more steadying for a woman than the knowledge that she has said her piece. And yet on the subject of the impossible demands being placed on women at the moment, I find women strangely reticent. I can’t complain, they say to me when I bump into them on the street or in the playground. They are at pains to tell me they have it better than a healthcare worker or a college student. And while that may be the case, and while I am moved by the stoicism and compassion behind these statements, I also sense something else, something in recent weeks I have struggled to put my finger on: a solidity of defence, a wish not to be seen to be failing, a fear of being judged.

The culture of silence in Ireland is still very strong. But can speaking out about the impossible task before us as women really be seen as failing? And is it not our duty as parents to advocate for our children’s needs?

It seems to me that Irish women have always got around the appalling lack of support for themselves and their children at a political level by making things work for them at a community level. The sisterhood was the safety net. And what a safety net it was. Need a child minded? A year’s worth of hand-me-downs? A cup of tea and a cry? The government have been trading on how well our country works at this level for years, but now this safety net has been taken from us we can be under no illusion as to where we stand. Our contribution is, has been and always will be taken for granted by those in power until we push back. But how do we put a price on all the invisible work we do? And how do we as a society, value care?

Of course, we can put our heads down, get on with it (Good woman, good woman yourself) in the hope that when this is all over, things will go back to the way they were, but here’s the thing: they won’t. When this is over, more women will be out of work, or working harder for less. But if we were to take all the energy and commitment we have at a community level and used it to lobby the government for flexible affordable childcare, flexible hours and an end to the gender pay gap, we would empower and liberate ourselves in ways that are scarcely imaginable.

Now that’s an act of self-care.

Nikki Walsh, February 2021