Sitting here with peeling nails and big, dark circles under my eyes because FLU SEASON HIT OUR HOUSE, you might look at me and think, “you need a little self-care, girlfriend,” but I promise, I’m working on it. I’ve been working on it for about 5 years, actually. #slowlearner

It started this way: shortly after we brought our sweet girl home, I joined a bunch of other adoptive and foster parents for a series of attachment classes. It felt weird to take training on how to connect with your child (like, I should just know how to do that, right?), but like most parents, I wanted so badly to be the mom that my baby needed that I’d have done almost anything for her. Including driving on a snowy highway, to sit on a precariously tilting chair in a stuffy classroom, with a bunch of tired strangers one night a week for 6 weeks. And, I needed this class.

There were sessions that were great, some that felt redundant, and some that were heartbreaking and hard. (Wonder why attachment training is necessary for foster parents or parents adopting kids who have experienced foster care? Things like this will help you understand. Let’s not forget these precious kiddos.)

The most surprising class, however, was on self-care. I couldn’t quite figure out why we had to do a self-care assessment as homework. It seemed impractical and kind of a waste of time. The questions evaluated how often we took time or remembered to do things like reading, reflection, spending time with people we enjoy, or getting massages. We even had to mark down those basic things like getting enough sleep, eating regularly, eating healthy, and getting medical care. As a pretty new parent, I was a bit cocky. Everyone does that, right?

Not so much, it turns out. As we shared our scores, these really selfless people proved that they were just that: self-less. Many said that they didn’t even take time to see the doctor. They were flat-out tired.

I didn’t really understand until I was there just a few years later. When school schedules took away the freedom of daycare schedules. (Anyone relate?) When I went to the dentist and told him I’d not had my teeth cleaned in a year – and got thoroughly chastised for it (time for a new dentist!). When I realized I’d put off my own doctors’ appointments because I was juggling too many appointments for our wee girl. When my diet became “whatever” instead of “whatever is good.”

I’d still found ways to have fun, and I wasn’t a total wreck or anything, but I was pretty worn out. I remember driving to school pickup one day, when nothing seemed to be easy, and asking God if He even saw me. And if He did, if He could just send a little help.

I hit the end of myself, and I had to find Him there.

I was a worn-out, malnourished, at-the-end-of-her-rope parent carrying what felt like too much. To find the energy to laugh with my funny girl or to play a game felt like a luxury.

And then it all made sense – why we’d spend a precious evening away from our families to talk self-care. Caring for ourselves? It was absolutely necessary to be able to care for others.

And here’s why we had to do that exercise: we love our neighbour – our child, our parent, our spouse – as we love ourselves. I’ve now read the research that joy, play, laughter and fun can help resolve children’s behaviour problems, as they connect in meaningful positive ways to caregivers. I’ve seen it myself. When Grandma is in town, playing games or Playmobil pretending for two hours every day after school, our girl thrives. Six-year-old sass can turn pretty sweet, pretty fast. Turns out, laughter isn’t just good medicine for ourselves, it’s also the glue for others’ cracked hearts, and it connects us to each other.

I understood how self-care seemed completely overwhelming to some of those other parents. Impossible. And I feel for them. I wanted to bless them, fairy-godmother-style, with babysitters and massage therapists and hot coffee. And God came through for me when I cried out. Maybe not in the ways I thought, but in a lot of ways I needed. One of those ways was huge, because just a couple months later I fell down the stairs and got a miserable concussion, and God knew I needed that particular support.

But self-care is more than that, isn’t it?

My lesson (thanks to my smart friend Leanne, who shared this with me) is to determine what is maintenance and what is self-care. If I think of myself as a car (admittedly, more like a minivan than a sports car) there are things that are general maintenance: putting gas in, changing the oil, going through the car wash, putting on winter tires. Getting the car detailed and hand buffed? Extra care. It matters though, to wash off the Ontario salt, and preserve the leather seats. To be able to see out of the windshield. To clean the mommy-van mess out. And doesn’t it feel good when we do get that detailing done and the car doesn’t smell like stale french fries and donut-store coffee anymore?

Those doctor’s appointments? They’re not self-care. They’re maintenance. My haircut? Maintenance. Healthy diet? Maintenance. Regular spiritual care? Maintenance.

Self-care? For me – it means time to create. To repurpose. To DIY a painting/furniture project. To organize a closet. To watch a show that only I like. It’s that stuff that makes me feel filled up and not just maintained. It also means stepping out, opening my door and seeking good friendship. The iron-sharpens-iron kind, with deep conversation and a whole lot of laughter.

Bit by bit I’m learning that by making space to care for ourselves, to fill ourselves up, we make room in our hearts to love others. To really love those close to us. To care for those entrusted to us. To attach our hearts to theirs. It’s putting on our own oxygen mask first so that we can hold tight to our babies.

I’m still not totally sure how to make this space. I’m a work in progress. I’m trying. I know it’s by saying no to some things so that I can say yes to others. The hardest thing for me is actually making space and learning to say yes to the (healthy) things that make my heart beat a little faster – like a last-minute watercolour painting class or being intentional to have lunch with a friend.

Those things? They help me love my people. They help me love whole-heartedly, with less resentment, and more tenderness. They help me love my neighbour – and my husband, and my daughter – as myself.

So, how do you find space for self-care? What do you find is the most important to make room for?

If you liked this, check out When You Need to Drop the Ball.