April’s Self Care Day on the 6th

As I sat here thinking about self care in preparation for this Self Care Day on the 6th (SCDOT6) post, I began to think about how pervasive the lack of it is. Sure, there are folks who are really good at it, but most of us just aren’t. We make attempts from time to time — you know, on those days you can almost justify being nice to yourself. Birthdays anyone? — but even feel a little guilty for that.

It’s so bad that I know folks who will make fun stuff sound like a chore just so that they don’t have to feel selfish for enjoying something.

“Oh, how I would love to help you feed the homeless tomorrow but I just must <sigh> take Mother to the movies. She’s been hounding me for weeks and I would rather die <sigh> than go, but well… <back of hand placed on forehead> you know Mother.”

No. What I know is that you love to go to the movies and would rather be there than anywhere, but you’ve somehow bought into the “if it ain’t painful, it ain’t valuable” value system that pervades our planet.

Well, enough is enough. Why spend so much energy justifying something we want to do with all of this drama? It’s like baking a cake and icing it with toothpaste. “See there. It isn’t a cake. It’s a decay preventive dentifrice!”

I call bull.

So, what is it that you are wanting to do — or actually doing — but aren’t allowing yourself to enjoy?

Me?

Crochet.

I love to crochet. I love yarn. I love making blankets and pillows and scarves and wraps. Love it.

For years I’ve made objects and given them away because, well, if you’re making something for someone else it has value. It’s on purpose! It’s necessary! It’s — wait for it — work! And, boy have I worked at crochet. My handmade dodads are all over the country, and maybe the world. I never charge for them (Gasp! Pay me for this little handcrafted nothing? What a crazy notion!) and I barely acknowledge the gratitude expressed by the recipient. You can’t steal my suffering by liking the product of it!

So, I did something massively radical. When I started my latest project, rather than identifying someone in desperate need of a crocheted item or justifying it as a birthday/Mother’s Day/Groundhog Day gift, I decided to make something for my own studio. Actually, I’m making multiple items. It’s a whole collection of crocheted goodness. I still get a little shaky just thinking about it, but it’s pretty amazing stuff. I’ve decided, at the very least, to make an afghan and two pillows. I may make a room-full of items before I’m finished. I’m using very intricate patterns with tedious stitches that take a lot of concentration. I’m using 9 colors of yarn.  It’s taking lots of time and I’m obsessed with working on the pieces.

Crochet is absolutely part of my self care — carrying around my gorgeous basket of yarn, adding stitches when I get (or take or make) moments through the day — and it’s my intention to allow that to be enough. Previously I’ve justified the expense and time by pointing to the utility of the product. My goal is to enjoy the act of creation, the selection of colors, the feel of the yarn, the rhythm of the stitches as an end unto themselves.

So, what are you sighing and gnashing about that you actually, secretly enjoy? Could you enjoy it more if you allowed yourself to acknowledge how much you love doing it?