Brigid, Self-care – a journey

A few days ago I posted in the Forge, talking about making breakfast as an act of Brigid-influenced self-care. I was also speaking about how this is something that Bridget has had to support me in quite a lot, which is a bit embarrassing to have to say.  Because it’s very easy for most people to feed themselves. This is not something that’s people struggle with most of the time.

Now, in line with Brigid self care, I will be mentioning disordered eating, overexercising, and other forms of self harm in this post.

But I am one of the people that does struggle with this. It comes from a long history of disordered eating, of struggles with my body, with my self worth, with my image, with all sorts of different things.  And while it’s not necessarily a major part of my life anymore, for the last few years, looking after myself has not been on the day to day schedule the way I would like it to be. Don’t get me wrong. Brigid has been pushing self care all that time with me. This is not something she wants me to cancel or to stop or anything. What do I mean by self care and where does Brigid come in?

The joys of an 80’s (rural) Irish childhood

Alright, so taking this back up. I need to go into little bit of history about myself. When I was growing up, I was always bigger, but I was a kid. That was a really positive thing to be. You know, the Irish have a dislike of seeing a skinny child. It’s a thing culturally that I expect is something to do with An Górta Mór or the Great Famine. There are strong tendencies in our culture to prefer rounder kids. (Or there were in the 80’s anyway!!) I’m part of that. (Can an entire nation do shadow work, I wonder?)

Added to that – and this was the case in many Irish families – my family was a firm member of the “clean plate club”. Whatever was on your plate, you finished it. Now, look. My darling parents did the absolute best they could For me. Every night, we had a home cooked dinner. Every single day, we had homemade lunches. We had breakfast every day. And the idea of going out or getting a take away wasn’t even a once a year treat. It was far less often than that!

Brigid, self-care and… McDonald’s?

So here’s a funny story about that, just as an insert. When I went to school, I had heard people talking about McDonald’s. So, I asked could I go to McDonald’s for my birthday? And ma and dad were like, you know something let’s give it a go. As a treat. What’s the worst that could happen? We were standing in O’Connell Street in Dublin, mid-eighties. At the time, I’m almost certain there were as many as 3 McDonald’s on the street. Definitely 2 anyway. The way Dad tells the story, we were standing across the road from one of them, when they eventually stopped a guard to ask where they could find this McDonald’s place! (The guard was too polite to laugh apparently…) Our cultural experience was so limited that we didn’t even recognise the gold arches.

Now Dad wasn’t overly impressed by the whole thing (to this day, he definitely prefers Supermacs, although that could be because that’s owned by a Galway man!) But he tells that story fairly often.   (And yes, I’ve confirmed with Brigid, an act of self-care could be either a visit to McDonald’s or Supermacs. While she’s leaning more towards Supermacs cos it’s Irish, she has no real beef with McDonalds in Ireland…)

Personal backstory and a few sensitive topics

All the time I was growing up, being a “big, healthy girl” was a compliment. My darling Dad once referred to me as a fine lump of an Irish heifer and couldn’t understand why I didn’t take it as such! But it seemed like overnight, the conversation changed. From “Aren’t you a fine big girl” , the commentary switched to “big was bad”.

It wasn’t good that I was the same size or bigger than most of the boys in my class. I was meant to be small and petite and delicate. Honestly. I have no idea what happened or where that came from, but overnight, everything changed. 

Then I went to boarding school. Now on the one hand, boarding school was a great exercise in self care for both my mother and myself. I see Brigid’s hand strongly here. But at the same time, boarding schools not a great place if you are bordering into disordered eating. There were a lot of girls there who, I recognise now, had eating disorders. I learned all sorts of ways to hide my relationship with food. This wasn’t something that was taught to us, you understand, but picked up through observation.

Now you wouldn’t expect loneliness to be an issue in boarding schools, but it very much can be. And comforts aren’t necessarily plentiful. We weren’t abused or anything where I was. We had some privacy etc. But just having a jammies day, wasn’t an option. Staying home from school was a bit of an issue. Having the special food your Mammy made for you when you were sick. That sort of thing. I loved my time there, but it wasn’t perfect. Brigid, self care – weren’t words that were heard too often.

Depression

I’m fairly certain I had depression in my teens and during my college years. Looking back it’s a lot easier to see the signs than it was at the time. During college I started dieting and exercising – to get healthy. I started developing disordered eating and a very unhealthy relationship with alcohol. At the weekends, I was surviving mostly on chocolate, cheesecake and alcohol. Now, there’s nothing wrong with chocolate or cheesecake. Absolutely nothing. When that’s all I was eating for three days a week, then there is a problem there.

I was using food to punish myself. I wasn’t worthy of food. Most certainly,I didn’t deserve self care. (Yeah, you can imagine Brigid popping over my shoulder right now with that stern look she gets!) I was on a mission to make myself less. Tried all sorts of low calorie diets. I thought I was getting healthy. Not the case.

I was not looking after myself. I mean, I looked really, really fit and healthy. And I had a really low heart beat. Like “elite athlete” low. But I wasn’t an elite athlete. I had an eating disorder.

I started getting into the anti-diet movement and dealing with my depression. Medication. Meditation. Looking at religion and spirituality. Examining why I felt the need to punish myself, using food, exercise, alcohol. Why did I think I deserved all this?

Brigid, self care and clothes

Brigid’s form of self care can be a slap across the back of the head, but it can also be gentle. And she has been gentle with me in times like this. Caring for my body by eating food, moving, getting enough sleep, washing… (I’ve had some bad depressive episodes)

I still struggle sometimes to recognise if a trousers feels too tight. Seriously. I have to tune into my body and really focus to recognise things like this sometimes. I’m not talking, struggling to get the zip done up tight. More like, leaving red marks everywhere tight. It was only a few years ago I found out that comfortable bras exist. I mean, ok I still have those bras that are meant to be worn for 5mins max, so someone can get a nice look, before ripping them off. But have you any idea the difference it makes when your clothes actually feel good against your skin? Not tight, not scratchy, but… pleasant?

More generally then

This is probably going to be a life long journey for me. It is not always going to be an easy ride. It’s not been an easy ride, this far anyway.

I’m going to offer two different situations here. Consider allowing yourself to not have chocolate. People don’t understand this. But allow yourself not to have chocolate.  It’s an act of self-care as much as allowing yourself to have chocolate. Different locations, different circumstances. Different bodily needs. There are times when having chocolate is self care. There are times when it serves as punishment. Only you know which is which though!

Allowing myself to eat breakfast in work was an act of self care. It wasn’t ideal, but it was the best I could do at that time. For the last 5 years, I’ve been getting up approx 5am and leaving the house before 6am. Breakfast was just one more load to add into that time and it didn’t work.

But it didn’t work really well. It eased one stress, but caused others. So, taking a job closer to home was an act of Brigid-ordered self care. I have time to have breakfast at home now, meaning I feel better coming into work in the morning.

I suppose what I’m saying here is that, self care can be big things or small things. Maybe sitting down and paying your bills (or as many of them as you can) is an act of self care. Maybe deliberately choosing which bill not to pay is an act of self care. Brigid self-care isn’t limited to bubble baths and prosecco. Ye know how practical she is!

I’m going to finish now!

Cos I’ve rabbited on for 1600 words…

Today, I’ve already completed an act of self care. I ordered a skipping rope on Amazon. It arrives on Monday. I was inspired by this video on Facebook. (As an aside, if you are interested in science based health tips, Ben Carpenter is really good, I find!)

I like the idea of committing to 1min a day on myself. And I know many of you are out there thinking of the luxury of a full minute to yourself! So I’m debating how I will track this, but I’m thinking of a video whenever I do it (cos it’s going to be almost daily)

Do ye want to join me? Maybe we make it a Brigid self care challenge?