Social
media is full of quotes, reminders, and articles about the importance of living
your best life, of self-care, and of striving for happiness. We all know that
we only have this one precious life. We all know that we need to put our own
oxygen mask on before helping others. So why is this so hard to do? Most of us
spend lots of time telling ourselves what we should do, and very little time doing it. It’s true that most of us are short on time
and long on important duties and obligations. But that’s not really an excuse. What
we seem to struggle with the most (myself included) is a wicked combination of
a martyr complex and fear paralysis.
On
one hand we believe, even if unconsciously, that forgetting ourselves to care
for others is a noble thing. To some extent, it’s what people of faith are
called to do. We should not be so self-absorbed that we fail to recognize and work
to repair the brokenness and injustices in our world. However, we are not called to empty ourselves. We are not called to be the living embodiment of
The Giving Tree (a book that is nothing but a cautionary tale
for the martyr complex—it’s what a total lack of self-care and boundaries leads
to)! Somewhere along the way some of us got the message that if we really love people we will sacrifice whatever
is necessary to make them happy. What we need to remember is that we can’t make
anyone else happy. That’s not our job! We can love people, help people, support
people, and care for people. What we can’t do is fix or change people. Martyring
ourselves will not inspire others to change. It will only deprive us of the
oxygen we need to flourish—the oxygen of self-care, nourishment, quiet,
exercise, creativity, connection, and play. A tree that has been cut down to a
stump can’t clean the air, house the birds, provide shade, or bear fruit. Boundaries
help us preserve what we need to nourish who we were created to be. Boundaries help
us bear fruit in our lives. Boundaries preserve the means by which we can be
repairers, healers, activists, innovators, and creators. We do not need to empty
ourselves in order to fill others’ cups.
Then
there’s the fear. So many of the
decisions we make are motivated by fear.
It’s not usually fear with a capital “F,” like fear of heights or fear
of death. What paralyzes us are the fears with a lower-case “f,”: fear of
change; fear of embarrassment; fear of making mistakes; and fear of bothering, inconveniencing, or upsetting others. While these fears don’t seem big, they’re actually the most
paralyzing, because they point to the things that we need most in the world—belonging,
security, and connection. Practicing self-care—flourishing rather than simply
surviving—is fundamentally about pushing past all the “little” fears and
claiming our identity as beloved children of a loving creator. I don’t mean claiming
an identity that says, “I’m special, so I deserve to neglect others and pamper
myself.” That’s entitlement. I mean that we must claim an identity of
wholeness. We must always remember, and remind others, that we are meant to
love and be loved. Fred Rogers always said that “the greatest thing we can do
is to show others that they are loved and that they are capable of loving.” I
know. He should be canonized as a saint YESTERDAY! What I often ask myself (over and over,
because I keep failing at it) is “Would you want your children to treat
themselves the way you are treating yourself, talking to yourself, or being
treated?” If the answer is no, we have work to do. We need to put ourselves on
the list!
So
how do we do this when we have work, bills, and loved ones who need tending? “We
can’t let people down” we say to ourselves. I think the problem starts when we
set goals for ourselves that are too big and too unattainable. Our resolutions
are often: lose 50 pounds; save $5000 for an emergency fund; make sure our children
are happy; keep a constantly clean house; overhaul our whole diet; be a better
friend. These goals are noble, but HUGE! What if we simply started small. The
best path out of the woods of martyrdom is marked with simple, humble stepping
stones.
The
first step is to just breathe. If we pay
attention to our breath, we realize that we rarely breathe slowly and deeply.
Breathe slowly and deeply. The world won’t stop turning. The next step might be
to simply call a friend and put an actual date on the calendar for coffee and
GO! While you’re there, sipping that beautiful brew, show up in the moment.
Listen with your whole attention. Laugh! Be open. Don’t bother trying to act like
you have all your stuff together. Fred Rogers says that attention is a holy
thing because when we really pay attention to someone, we’re doing what God
does for us all the time. When you talk yourself out of exercise, because you think
of it as a luxury, instead think of it as medicine that you can’t live without.
The truth is, it is!
So
often, we live like martyrs and are paralyzed with fears because we suffer
under the delusion that there is nothing we can really change or stop doing. We
think that we must have the house in the “right” neighborhood, so we take on
financial obligations that guide everything else we do. We think we can’t tell
the people we love what we are feeling and needing because they should be able
to read our minds and already know. Or, worse, we think we’ll burden them. We think we can’t go to that group fitness
class because we’ll be the most out-of-shape one in the room. We think we can’t
say “no” to our kids’ requests because they’ll think we’re mean, poor providers,
or they won’t be like the other kids. We think we have to post only the
positive experiences on social media because otherwise people will think we are
a downer and won’t follow us. At the
heart of so many of our actions or inaction is fear that is grounded in
delusion. The truth is, we do not need to live in the “right” neighborhood. There
are plenty of good neighborhoods, with plenty of fabulous people. We need to
spend more time being good neighbors
than we do judging our neighbors.
The
truth is, the people we love can’t read our minds. I don’t quote Dr. Phil very
often, but he’s right when he says, “Do you wanna be happy, or do you wanna be
right?” Tell your people what you’re feeling. Tell them what you need. Maybe
don’t say “I need for you not to be an idiot,” but definitely say, “I feel worried
and I need a long hug.” The truth is,
you might go to that group fitness class and have someone mistake you for being
pregnant. Who cares? If those people aren’t the one’s showing up for you when
you’re hurting, their opinion doesn’t get to matter.
The
truth is, we’re likely to do more damage to our kids if we don’t say “no” often
enough. The world is a hard place, with much to overcome. If we don’t give them
practice overcoming or sacrificing, they won’t be equipped to be good neighbors
and people, won’t learn compassion, and won’t know how to renounce things. We are
raising humans whose job it is not simply to be happy, but to be good, kind,
compassionate, people who can help repair and heal the world.
So
let’s stop living Giving Tree lives,
and start living beloved lives. Let’s live, not as though we are too broken or
busy to be worthy of care, but as if we are too precious not to. Somewhere on the
other side of martyrdom and fear lies a humble little path of uneven stepping
stones. That path isn’t clearly marked or well-worn. You should bring friends,
wear sturdy, comfortable shoes, and get ready to get messy. There’s no clean or
easy way through. At the end, though, there is a table where cups are overflowing,
food is nourishing, and the canopy of
trees is breathtaking! No stumps, just arched branches that spent decades
bathing in sunlight, drinking in fresh water, and putting down deep roots in
good soil. They didn’t have any idea
what they should have done. They just
did what they were created to do, and it is a thing of beauty.
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