Self-Care: How to Support Others While Caring for Yourself

I was a few weeks into my Freshman year of college when the first plane hit the North Tower of the World Trade Center (WTC). I spent my adolescence in and out of the shadow of those buildings, and my only sister--who worked in the depths of 1 World Trade Center--would be among those who would barely survive that day. Growing up a young Latina from a working class family in the Bronx came with its share of hardships, but 9/11 would be my first conscious experience with a crisis on that scale and the trauma and recovery that comes in its aftermath. 

I have always been what Mr. Rogers famously called a “helper.” In those terrible days that followed 9/11, I watched the people that I loved - my sister included -  return to the site of her trauma and rebuild. At the time I thought I understood what it would mean to be the ones that ran towards the smoke: the helpers. With the kind of righteousness that only youth can bring you, I knew that kind of person would be me. What I didn’t think of was what it would cost me.

Fifteen years later, on a crisp mid-November evening in San Francisco, I would be the one in crisis. In the wake of the election, I felt drained and uninspired. While I loved my work, it was clear that the realities of Silicon Valley and the systems of marginalization that it often served, could no longer be ignored. I responded by feeding the insatiable “helper” in me, throwing myself into first responder training, mentoring kids who grew up just like me and running to and from non-profit board meetings across town. I spent my free time like I was constantly running out of it. In those days, the brutal truth of the Valley’s beloved mantra “move fast and break things” revealed itself, but not in the way that I thought. I think I mostly just broke myself. 

2016 was a turning point for me. I would learn what would become the fundamental law in my life: we can’t serve anyone, if we are empty vessels. To put it simply, part of this work is taking care of yourself, by whatever means at your disposal. Prioritizing “Self-care” would become an anchor point for me when facing the Coronavirus pandemic as well. Unfortunately, much of what we understand about the concept is informed by the media images of spa days and Marie Kondo-ing your home. The truth  is that “self-care” is a broad concept. One that isn’t necessarily accessible for everyone. For folks like myself--who advocate or organize--refilling ourselves can feel like an impossible privilege to claim when leading mission-driven work that never takes a day off. As we struggle to live in a world affected by COVID-19, balancing collective grief and the desire to drive our work, how do we practice intentional “self-care?”

Listen and track the story your body is trying to tell you. As I wrestle with the new norms of working and living in quarantine, I find that as my stress climbs, my body responds with lower immune defense and chronic lethargy. Thus, it becomes important to take note of these changes to my health and use that data to proactively address potential causes. I keep a diary to track my spikes in moods and health symptoms, taking the time to describe feelings and thoughts as they happen. I try to reframe any negative thoughts and emotions (e.g., instead of saying “I am angry” saying “I am thinking I feel anger right now.”). Then later, I reflect back on them (alone or with others) and address proactively using physical, spiritual, or mental means. 

Create safe spaces for yourself. In my professional life, “creating a safe space” for others is key to being able to do work in spaces where trauma and inequity lives, but it is easy to forget to do this for ourselves. The first step for me was giving myself permission to take regular breaks and saying “no” to what feels like endless Zoom calls. I set aside “do not schedule/no” blocks in both my work and personal calendars. During these blocks, I step away from distractions like Slack or text in order to focus on deep thinking and content-driven work or other care rituals that feed me. For me, it’s much easier to say no to someone else, when you have “plans” (even if it’s with yourself.) 

Reduce, or at least, rethink your daily inputs. Research shows that media consumption increases stress, and social media, in particular, can impact on our sense of self and emotional well being. Right now, it’s easy to fall prey to the constant barrage of coverage and find yourself losing hours to anxiety. Consider reducing your media intake by allocating one or two specific times when you read the news or by adding rituals to reduce stress such as music or a favorite beverage. Also consider changing how and when you consume it. Opt for podcasts or newsletter recaps over the constant push of news notifications. Personally, I avoid reading any notifications when I wake up or in the hour before I go to sleep. Being able to ignore the news is a privilege for many, but there are ways to create better guardrails for yourself in how you receive it. 

Go beyond the paradigm. It’s easy to rely on the Instagram filtered norm of spas and face masks as a cure-all for burnout. If these activities are accessible and appealing to you, don’t feel guilty in using them, but know that taking care of yourself can take different forms if you choose. Start with what gives you energy or even what gives you room to lean into a “release.” Build a routine around it and share it with those who can help you facilitate it. I read voraciously, so before going to bed, I read fiction--novels, comic books, or short stories. My partner knows it's my sacred time and gives me the quiet time and space to do it without distractions. “Self-care” does not have to look like anyone else’s experience to be valid.

Build a choir. I’d like to share something I recently heard on Twitter about the Parable of the Choir. “A choir can sing a beautiful note impossibly long because singers can individually drop out to breathe as necessary and the note goes on.” Part of my journey to a healthier lifestyle, was accepting my part in the whole. It was also checking my ego. While my contribution is important, I am not a machine with endless fuel nor am I the only--or even the most important--component in the fight. Building a community of practice--a choir--has been at the foundation of my continued “self-care”. I started by joining an email list geared towards those in my industry and opting into conversations that would lead me to others passionate about the work. Communities of practice take time to build, but the song is so much sweeter for it.

Finally, be kind to yourself and take your time. We all deserve a little kindness in this process, especially in these times that we live in. Figuring out what works won’t happen overnight and studies show that folks are much more resilient when they focus on things they can do to move forward than things that are ultimately out of their control. Pick an area that feels attainable, whether it’s creating 30 minutes of “no” time in your calendar or just turning off push notifications on the New York Times alerts. Start simple, start small, but start somewhere that feels like it’ll give you peace.  It may take time to normalize these routines and guidelines, and that’s okay. The road to caring for ourselves is a lifetime effort.