The importance of diligent self-care

 

The route that Anne I chose to Santiago is known as “The Portuguese Coastal Route." It is just one of many “Official Caminos”, in fact, it is one of three in Portugal alone. We chose it for its famous beauty, its relative quiet, and because we had been told that it had the greatest number of asphalt free miles. It truly was spectacular and the perfect choice for us as we hugged the beach-line for the first six days in a constant state of visual awe. We walked on beautiful wooden boardwalks, along heather lined trails, down country lanes surrounded by farmland, through vineyards, and deep into pine and eucalyptus forests. We passed through sleepy Portuguese fishing villages filled with colorful beach shacks. We were amazed to find that every street within small towns, and even the fairly large highways that connect them, are paved with beautiful, square black cobblestones. Even the sidewalks, when they do exist, are stone, made from small white squares that seem as though they will last forever. It amazed us to think about how long these road surfaces will last with no repair needed. The Portuguese have invested in a strong foundation, one that has been constructed with sturdy materials that will resist wear, even in the face of the heaviest of use. 

 

Though I’m no scientist I know that it must be some law of physics that states when two objects collide it is the softer and weaker one that will give and suffer. As our feet met road bed it was our feet that proved to be the softer and weaker of the two. We hadn’t made it through the twenty-two miles of our very first day before we understood that these charming stones  would bring us, quite literally, to our knees. 

 

They say that twenty-five hundred steps make a mile; Fifty-thousand, then, would make twenty. Anne and I had four days where we planned to walk more than that, and our first day was one of the longest. I think this must be another law of physics, or at least a law of life: You can get away with something for twenty-five hundred steps that will be feel impossible if you try to keep going for fifty thousand. The cobblestones in your path will always win!

 

Life is a lot like a cobblestone road. It will last far longer than we will. Its bumps, edges, beauty, and wild meanderings are built to last. We are all merely pilgrims walking our small portion, and even the most beautiful of lives will meet challenges from time to time. None of us are immune to loneliness, illness, fear, death, stress, loss, or conflict. That’s just part of this pilgrimage we were born to. Without a deep commitment to diligent self-care the hard edges of life will wear down even the sturdiest of souls. 

 

I know that life regularly leaves its mark on me, much the same way the cobblestones of Portugal couldn’t be ignored. There have been times in life I’ve been either ignorant or negligent in my discipline to take good care. Maybe it was sheer hubris that used to lead me to believe that I could just “soldier on” and beat life at its own game. I wasn’t raised to understand that crying “Uncle” under emotionally untenable circumstances was a sign of health and not weakness. I didn’t know that asking myself what I needed, what I longed for, what I hated, were the most important decision making tools I had at my disposal. No one taught me that listening to that tiny voice deep in my tummy that always knows the next right thing to do was self care, not selfishness, and maybe even the voice of God. 

 

There are so many valuable strategies for genuine self-care but from my own experience I’ve learned that none of them involve distraction, denial, or “soldiering on” in the face of life’s hard edges. No, what I’ve come to appreciate is the priceless gift of awareness, really paying attention when I hurt, and noticing the places where life, or my relationships, are wearing me down like a sharp and rocky road. Just allowing myself the truth about who or what hurts, compared to who and what feels good, is usually all I need now to lead me to the softer, safer places. Giving myself the liberty to choose the self-caring path can still be a challenge though. I hate that! It’s scary to face my fear and walk away from a relationship that brings out my own crazy. It’s hard to make myself say, “no” instead of “yes”, and “yes” instead of “no”. It gets tiring to carve out time every single day for the spiritual and physical practices that add to, rather than deplete, my inner resources. I would rather stay busy than feel anxious, and just about anything beats wrecking my face by crying when I’m sad. 

 

On The Camino we learned that we could get away with almost anything, where cobblestones were concerned, for the first fifteen miles of any day. We also came to appreciate the cost of ignoring wise self-care even when we didn’t yet feel a need for it. On that first day alone I think we both experienced pain at a level we rarely had before. (Who knew the Lamaze breathing I had learned thirty years earlier in childbirth classes would one day be my only recourse for surviving the pain of a long walk.) Before it became obvious that we needed a softer option it was usually too late; the stones beneath our feet had taken their toll.

 

By just the second day we learned to search the roadside for soft dirt shoulders. We learned that it wasn’t silly to go meters out of our way to walk on grass clippings drifted in gutters. We even grew to appreciate rectangle cobblestones over square, and white over black, when stone surfaces were the only option. Most importantly, we learned to make these choices early in the day, long before our feet were screaming. We grew proud when our dedication paid off and we could end the day still feeling strong and good.

 

It’s a lesson that has served me well since I’ve been home. I appreciate that I have a blessing filled life, but like everyone else’s, it’s not without its rough edges. I have a new dedication to building awareness of my feelings, and a stronger dedication to wise choices in the face of them. I no longer see myself as emotionally or physically invincible. I only pick friends who allow me my feelings and know how to celebrate or stand vigil beside me. The same friends are vulnerable enough to ask the same of me. I’ve finally found wisdom in the saying: “We can do together what we can’t do alone”. I’ve come to understand that isolation is never self-care, it’s just lonely. 

 

On The Camino I grew to appreciate that feeling strong in the face of challenge is wonderful, but that life still has the edge, and invincible is impossible.

 

Reflections

 

Setting myself up to feel good and stay strong has become a priority. It means regularly asking myself the questions: “Where are my soft and safe places? Who or what is causing me pain? Is now the time to push through, or the time to cry “Uncle?” What is it I need to do early, and often, so that I stay excited and happy and calm? What are the simple choices that will serve me well today? Above all I’ve dedicated myself to a practice of self-awareness, and based on what I hear from that voice deep inside, I’ve learned to give myself permission to take care of myself and avoid the insidious pain that comes every time I ignore what I already know.

 

    1. If you could release yourself from needing to act, how would you honestly answer the question:  “Is there anything I am afraid to acknowledge about my life that, in reality, I already know?

    2. If you could separate yourself from all feelings of guilt, shame, or fear, how would you honestly answer the questions: 

           “What do I need today?”             

           “What do I long for today?”  

           “What do I dread today?”