Category Archives: invisibility

What is Self-Care? The Fortieth Week of the Second Year in the New Abnormal

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When I was growing up in suburban New Jersey I didn’t know anything about self-care.  The first experience I had that felt like self-care was when my mom treated me to a facial at Strawbridge and Clothier.  They were having a special promotion.  Although I couldn’t control my weigh, we could try to tackle my acne this one time.  

Though the focus was to improve my skin, It felt luxurious to have an aesthetician apply steam to my face followed by a facial massage then rich creams applied with gentle fingers. This was so different from the daily Strident Pads and mismatched Clearasil routine I’d become accustomed to.   

The facial came with an unexpected make-over. I was beside myself with glee as I felt pampered in a way I had never experienced.  When finished I looked much older than my fourteen years with the make-up, but I felt like a new person.  A temporarily, sophisticated young woman who got facials.  This felt like a real treat.  

But following that one Saturday, the idea of self-care remained a mere memory for decades.  Then in my thirties as I attended mental health workshops and retreats, I was reintroduced to the idea of self-care.  

Self-care is not the same for everyone.  It’s why I make suggestions rather than state that there are only certain ways to care for oneself.  For many facials are a part of their self-maintenance. For me facials will always be a self-care activity, a rare treat while on vacation.  There is a distinction between self-care and self-maintenance.  And it is different for each of us 

We all live unique lives and how we choose to spend our time can vary vastly.  I now consider meditation self-maintenance rather than self-care.  Viewing art once a week is self-maintenance for me.  Often coupled by another maintenance activity, a destination walk.  However, should I find myself in more than one museum, then the visits are self-care.  Sleep is absolutely self-maintenance.  A phone call to a friend with plenty of tears and laughter could be either self-maintenance or self-care depending on the friendship, the call’s purpose, and the timing.  

It’s not always easy to distinguish the best ways to care for ourselves.  I do believe that self-maintenance is still a form of care.   Nonetheless, whether it’s self-maintenance or self-care, it’s an active statement that we matter.  

Self-Care Tips (Or Suggestions):

  • Give a friend a call, or a text for a walk, coffee, a meet-up, or for a conversation.  Make sure it’s someone with whom it’s natural and easy.  
  • Start a savings account for something you want.  It can be as small as $1 a week, or collect change in a jar.  It all adds up if there’s a regular deposit, and it gives you something to look forward to that you earned yourself.  
  • Find a way to volunteer.  Find something you like so that it doesn’t feel like an obligation but a happy way to give to others.  The season is upon us, so there are a lot of opportunities.  

Saying Nothing, The Thirty-Ninth Week in the Second Year of the New Abnormal

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“If you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say anything at all.”  That was a common idiom of our mother’s lexicon.   She lived true to that statement.  Even when she attempted to comment on something she disapproved of, she did her best to soften it.  As a teen, I often was asked the question, “Janet, do you think that’s the most complementary outfit?“  Or it could have been make-up, pants, hair style or any other appearance-related observation.  As a sensitive teen I was crushed no matter how much she tried to say it diplomatically.   

I was not mature enough or confident enough to understand that we were separated by a generation, and our aesthetic tastes were informed by those differences.  Nor did I appreciate that even when well-intended, a critique said in the most unobtrusively terms, can still be judgmental.

I learned that the hard way.  I followed in my mother’s footsteps, not saying anything that wasn’t nice, but Larry and Alex, my husband and son, let me know that my expressions have screamed disapproval.  So, though, “don’t say anything if you don’t have anything nice to say” is step one in being thoughtful, it by no means is enough.  

I have had to learn to listen and see things from their point of view.  I may be able to see that what they say or do isn’t right for me, but it is not my place to judge what is right for them, or anyone else, for that matter.  

We’d all do better to focus on ourselves and what we can do to live our lives as best we can rather than determine how others should be living their lives.  Whether we cast aspersions on others out loud or via facial expressions and body language, we are only indicating that we, ourselves, are intolerant or judgmental. And that is never a pretty look for anyone.    

Self-Care Tips:

  • When you hear something that sparks negative feelings within you, do your best to set them aside as you listen to the other person so you can appreciate their perspective on choices they are making.  You might learn something helpful rather than be reactionary, which usually changes nothing. 
  • I suggest watching the docuseries Chimp Empire. On Netflix, if you have it  It’s a relaxing view, while still creating a nice level of drama in the chimpanzees’ lives.  
  • Since we are our own worst critics, see if you’re able to bring kindness and compassion when you’re feel critical of yourself, and do your best not to criticize yourself for not being kind enough.  

Hygge, The Thirty-Eighth Week of the Second Year in the New Abnormal

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There is a distinct feeling of “hygge’” a Danish word for contentment that comes from comfort and an easy friendliness, that perfectly describes the vibe we encountered in Copenhagen.  Last week we had taken advantage of an Icelandair special to visit Copenhagen.  I have always wanted to go to Nordic countries, but they seemed so remote.  This deal with a stopover in Iceland was exactly what I needed to bridge the gap from a dream to a reality.  

Throughout the years I’ve read food and travel blogs about Denmark and Copenhagen.  And Copenhagen did not disappoint.  The food was excellent.  It’s so much fun to visit the outdoor markets, the covered markets, the cafes, the bakeries, and the restaurants.  And, like New York, Copenhagen is a great walking city.  Every chance I had I walked for miles, getting lost, finding myself in unknown neighborhoods or parks where there was always something new I encountered.  

Our very first day in Copenhagen, jetlagged and hungry, we set off for a foodhall.  The closest good one, we were told, was only one stop away on the “S” train.  We dutifully walked the 15 minutes to the train station, bought our four-day pass for public transportation.  The machine preferred European credit cards, so another ten minutes were spent trying to obtain our cards, but we prevailed.  Next, we set off to find the S train, only to see that there were multiple tracks.  We were flummoxed.  

Luckily, a passerby helped us out and though we ended up on the Subway, we eventually found our way to the market.  She was the first of many who embodied the hygge vibe.  She was friendly, considered our request, and offered the best way she knew to get there.  Even though we stopped others who had not known the directions we needed, all were kind, pausing from their morning commute to listen fully to our request.  And, though it was our first hour in the city, there were many interactions that reflected the hygge mentality.  

Right before we left for vacation, I had read a post that was critical of those who share their vacations on social media.  She, the poster, saw it as bragging.  It’s possible my posts can be perceived that way.  Though not my intention, I do understand that traveling is a luxury, and it’s not always accessible to all.  And, yet I love traveling and it’s an aspect of my life that always feels enriching.  However, I did wonder if it was appropriate to share my travels.   

After considering her post, I decided to share my experience.  Travel means a lot to me.  It gives me joy.  Not only do I get a great deal out of traveling, the least of which was learning more about hygge on this trip, but I do bring back what I learn and do my best to apply it to my everyday life.  I’m happy to be home.  There is a hygge in sleeping in my comfortable bed, though I do miss the feather beds on our mattresses in Copenhagen.  I am grateful to apply a new type of ease to my daily activities.  There’s a good reason Denmark is the second happiest country in the world.   I hope to visit Finland at some point, as that was rated number one.  I look forward to seeing what I can learn on that trip.  

Self-Care Tips:  

  • If you listen to or read someone who has a very strong opinion, see if it applies to you.  What they say is reflective of their point of view.  So often we shut down our expressive selves because someone else says it’s not okay.  Do your best to be okay with your choices and live your life fully as you, while not purposely hurting yourself or other. And understand not everyone will be okay with your choices, only you have to be okay with them.  
  • Apply “Hygge” to your life.  Find ways that bring ease and comfort.  It’s simple but not always easy to take the path of least resistance.  
  • Create a savings account for a specific goal or dream.  For instance, I have a separate travel account.  Even if your budget is small, set aside a dollar a week, less if that’s what’s needed.  It can make the goal seem more real.  There are many no fee apps and banks that allow for this type of account.  Or you can use a specific change jar for a goal.  This is great at any age.  

Happy New Year, The Thirty-Seventh Week of the Second Year in the New Abnormal

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It’s Rosh Hashanah, the Jewish New Year.  The year is 5784.  Back in 5734, in my teens, I worried about my clothes.  Was I going to wear my new wool dress, or was the warm September day going to deem it irrelevant?  I knew it was going to be a long day of prayer followed by a huge family meal.  I went to Synagogue, but I did not feel at home in the dressy world of the fancy Schul.  I felt more at home in the down-to-earth synagogue of my friends.  But members paid dues, and there was no seat for me in their sanctuary.  

Over the years I’ve moved away from observing in a house of worship.  It can be a deeply meaningful experience for many, but I prefer to pray and meditate in private.  Nonetheless, I do wish my Jewish friends & family, friends or family of other beliefs, acquaintances, and readers, a year filled with freedom from suffering. I wish you peace.  I hope you enjoy a sweet New Year.  

Self-Care Tips:

  • Enjoy the sweetness of honey to remind you of the sweetness in life.  Tradition has us dipping slices of apple in honey, but feel free to create your own sweet reminder.  
  • Try releasing something that’s been hard to let go of.  It can be an item, or it can be an attitude.  This will create new space for some peace of mind.  
  • What does freedom from suffering look like to you?  Like me, does that mean inserting more kindness and forgiveness for myself and others?  Or does it mean taking an action that will allow for more ease?  Don’t suffer in making a choice, just choose the best course for you and see if it relieves suffering.  

Beneath the Facade, The Thirty-Third Week of the Second Year in the New Abnormal

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Growing up my mother and her mother were sticklers for good manners.  I made a point of saying please and thank you.  I was afraid they would view me as rude, and I didn’t want that moniker.  My grandmother would point out other children who might have been louder than us, or publicly whiny, and she’d use those children as cautionary tails of behavior we were to stringently avoid.  

I appreciate good manners.  Things can be pleasurably orderly when people stick to the rules, when the rules make sense for all.  And I am always grateful for good manners.  Yesterday, when I once again rode Park Avenue for Summer Streets, I made a point of thanking the police and the Department of Transportation volunteers and temp employees for being there.  I was so grateful and happy to share that gratitude.  All but one smiled back, and they were nice exchanges along the beautiful ride.    

I was grateful I started out early so that the roads weren’t crowded.  I was grateful for the cool morning air, a rarity in August.  I had filled my tires so my ride was smooth.  And to those that I thanked I may have seemed nice.  But lurking underneath the gratitude and manners was a highly judgmental, cranky older woman.  For the day I had become an architype.   I was mad that some cyclists were in the right lanes, while some runners were in the left lanes.  There was clear signage.  Had I not been a shaky rider, I could imagine myself raising a fist each and every time I noted an interloper.  I also wasn’t pleased when motor bikes vroomed down the supposedly gas-free streets.  

In hindsight, I think these things scared me.  I’m a tentative cyclist.  I like empty roads without ruts. Smooth riding feels safer to me.  If I give myself grace, I can now see that my righteous anger was a defense of my fears.  And perhaps my fright isn’t specific to my bike ride.  Maybe it’s global warming anxiety.  Or a world in which people act out their fury in arbitrary ways.  Or fear of an unknown future.  Whatever the case I will do my best to ease my fears while living fully.  I’ll continue to have good manners, a multigenerational practice.  And I’ll check myself with care when my anger, judgment, and cantankerous nature peak out.  

Self-Care Tips:

  • When angry, check to see if the strong emotion is protecting a more vulnerable part of you.  If so, see if you can soothe yourself making room and a safe space for your frailer nature.  
  • Challenge yourself in small ways by doing things that feels doable even if you’re a little bit afraid.  It can be as small as a public bicycle ride in a busy city, stating a preference when you’re usually agreeable, or stepping out in a way right for you
  • Try reading or watching a genre that is new or different for you.  I came to appreciate graphic novels, even if it’s not my go to.  See if you might come to understand what others see in another genre.  

Mundane Day, The Thirty-First Week of the Second Year in the New Abnormal

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What am I doing this weekend?  Nothing special and everything essential.  In an Instagram world of glamourous posts, my weekend is the antithesis of awesome.  I started early to ensure I could easily access the washing machines needed for the weekly laundry.  Luckily for me, it was a ghost town before 7 am, and I peacefully and quietly secured my machines and loaded them from the full hampers.  

After I put the laundry in the dryer, bringing the hang-dry bag up to the apartment to, you guessed it, hang dry, I took Lucy out for a walk before the sun was beating too strongly on the sidewalks.  It’s pleasant enough, but the humidity still clung in-between my skin and my summer cottons. 

Then I ran some errands.  I was at the post office, which was empty due to it being the first summer since the pandemic in which everyone is running to escape the city on weekends.   Thank you, travelers, it’s so nice to enjoy a quiet corner of the city for a change.  Next was a stop at the local farmers’ market.  It seemed as if everyone who stayed in the city was buying up produce and baked goods.  The lines were long.  Some shoppers have routines in which they step in and out of line yet don’t communicate so those of us partially-patient while waiting are to assume they had a place somewhere and are now happy to go in front of us to procure their staples. 

I got enough sleep last night and Lucy was set with treats, so I felt less agitated by those farmers’ market patrons.  Sometimes, though, I can get annoyed. It was nice to have skipped over my reactivity this morning.  Carrying my load, Lucy and I took the short walk back home.  From there it was time for food prep.  There’s something straightforward about cutting fruit and chopping vegetables.  

Boring days like today are necessary to get through our lives.  However, it’s only boring as a story.  While ticking off these daily chores, it’s nice to accomplish small tasks.  It’s satisfying to finish one small project and then the next.  I was never bored.  In fact, I appreciated the quiet time getting everything done.  The mundane is not necessarily dull.  

Self-care tips:

  • The next time someone asks, “What’s new?”  See if you can easily and proudly share what you’ve been up to without having to exaggerate or only speak of the highlights.  
  • Find the extraordinary in the ordinary.  Often little things make a big difference.  
  • Find something that combines humor and art.  It could be poetry, fine art, a film, literature, or another type of artistry.  It’s so much fun to laugh and be inspired simultaneously.  It could be a Charlie Chaplin film, a Dorothy Parker poem, a Victor Borge video, any Judy Holliday movie, or choose something that suites your particular sense of humor.  

Lost in Brooklyn, The Twenty-Ninth Week of the Second Year in the New Abnormal

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I set out to go to The Brooklyn Museum to see the Africa Fashion exhibit.  I had intended to see it twice before but got waylaid, so my determination to get there yesterday was fierce.  My plan was to slowly jog in Prospect Park getting out at the arch and walking the few blocks to the museum.  Once I made it to Prospect Park at an unfamiliar entrance, I opened up Maps on my iPhone and set off.  

I had slung a string backpack over my shoulder with my knee braces for the run as well as an umbrella for the unpredictable weather.  After securing my knees in place with the braces, I left the bench and turned back to the Maps app.  I was curious. Though not so familiar with Brooklyn, I would have thought I should go right on the drive rather than the left the app instructed me to take.  With a momentary pull of doubt, I started off on my slow jog, sun unexpectedly shining, bearing left on the path towards the drive. 

In just over a mile I was instructed to leave the park.  I was surprised I had been so close when the app indicated that I was miles away.  When I exited, I was nowhere near anything familiar, but I ended my run and continued on my journey walking to the museum.  Ninety minutes later, past a huge cemetery, on the edge of Prospect Heights, then into Fort Greene, ending in Gowanus, right by the newly constructed business area by the Gowanus Canal.  This was nowhere near the Brooklyn Museum.  Perhaps there was a Brooklyn Museum section of the Design Within Reach store that was where the app stated was my destination.  Ah, the limits of technology.  

I enjoyed seeing the new construction and the warehouse spaces that were a contemporary take on a Brooklyn aesthetic.  There were places to shop, and places to eat.  Young business people came and went, coffee in hand, trying to finish out their work week.  By the time I sat in an industrial style courtyard there, I wasn’t sure if I should just head home, or if I should circle back and view the exhibit.  

Hot, sweaty, and tired, I trudged to the closest subway station, still uncertain whether I was returning to Manhattan or finally seeing the month-old fashion show on display.  In the end I transferred to the IRT 2 train and got off in front of the museum.  I was disheveled yet determined.  I showed my ticket and made it in.  

It was less crowded than expected.  Good for me, as I could take my time and enjoy the beauty of the craftsmanship and the artistry.  I was not disappointed.  It spoke of history, joy, and cultural pride with all 54 African countries represented in one or more ways.  And, though my tour through Brooklyn was two hours more than expected, it is true of this weekend, that all’s well that ends well.  

Self-Care Tips:

  • The next time you get lost, rather than spend your time trying to get back on track (unless someone needs you to be somewhere on time), look to see what is around you and take in the unexpected surroundings.
  • If you’re in or around Brooklyn, take a look at the Africa Fashion exhibit.  It is inspired.  
  • Try something new.  It could be listening to a new artist, trying a food or dish you normally don’t eat.  It could be meeting someone new, reading something not familiar to you.  Whatever it is, see what you learn about the subject, and/or about yourself.  

Bickering, The Twenty-Seventh Week in the Second Year of the New Abnormal

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My son told me last weekend that he hoped he won’t have disagreements in his relationships like I have with my husband when he’s older.  It was interesting to hear, and as far as I understand he believes that with the amount of therapy, mindfulness practice, as well as the fact that I am a psychotherapist, I should be further along in my personal development, especially when it comes to my marriage.  There was a time I would have agreed.  I would have seen my defensiveness when my feelings are hurt, and that my feelings get hurt at all, as a fault in my character.  

I am not proud that I bicker easily, or that I am quick to react, but I am no longer ashamed that both are true.  Like Alex, I imagined that when I was in my sixties I would have life figured out.  I believed I’d be highly advanced in my communications, and I’d be able to easily respond with patience and self-reflection.  The truth is I am still learning.  I have more acceptance of the bickering, appreciating that our marriage has the strength to encompass unpleasant moments.  However, more time is needed to learn to have a sense of humor about myself, to find ease when I want recognition and appreciation, and to accept that my way is not the only way.  

In our twenty-six years of marriage Larry and I have been able to spend less time upset with one another. Repair is quicker and easier.  And we laugh a lot more together.  I am proud of that growth.  We married later in life, but we came together with much to learn about healthy relationships.  And we continue to learn.  Every conflict is a new opportunity.  

I appreciate Alex’s comment because it allows me to see how it looks from his perspective.  I can only imagine the impact our bickering caused him unable to escape it in his earlier years in our compact apartment.  Presently his opinion and my response to conflict allows me to find acceptance with the imperfections of being human.  Being a therapist does not mean I’m immune to familial disagreements.  It means that I am committed to learning and growing one quarrel at a time.  

Self-Care Tips:

  • Take the same short walk three different ways.  Walk looking ahead on one walk.  Walk looking up.  And walk looking down.  How different are these walks covering the same ground?  This can be a metaphor for our memories.  Though we may remember the same experience, when we are in a different place in our lives, we might view it in a new way.  
  • When you have a disagreement, rather than seeing what is wrong with the other person, ask yourself what you need to feel at ease.  This way you address a need rather than trying to be right or change someone else. 
  • Take an analog and digital break.  Read a book or magazine, hand write in a paper journal, paint with watercolors, play with a real deck of cards, play a board game, knit, play ball, or find a concrete activity off-screen.    

Rest & Activity, The Twenty-Fifth Week in the Second Year of the New Abnormal

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It was a muggy day in the city.  I went to bed late and gave myself the luxury of resting in bed yesterday morning.  There was a lot to do, but my body craved relaxation, and rather than rush to place my feet on the floor, I lingered under the sheets, enjoying the ease of a restful morning.  

I’m usually a doer.  At some point in my development I got the message that being lazy was not a good thing.  I made a point of being busy. Rather than being busy when necessary and resting when needed, I seemed intent on proving I wasn’t lazy.  However, I had ongoing  jealousy for those who enjoyed life doing less.  That seemed impossible to me.  Thankfully, post-Covid, I have come to see the value in proper rest.  

Though I still have a long way to go to unwind the belief that one must be busy, I am glad that yesterday morning I could enjoy a restful dawning of the day.  It allowed me to find the energy early in the afternoon to go on a short jog.  It’s been a year since I’ve been able to run due to a sprained ankle.  Even though I knew that long distance running was part of my past, I’m aware that I really enjoy running as an ongoing activity.  So, I put on my ankle brace along with two knee braces, and I set out to run for a mile on East End Avenue asphalt.

Asphalt is easier on the joints and fairly level, which makes for a safer run.  It felt so nice to run.  Albeit I’m slower with less energy than last year.  But it was the act of running that felt freeing.  I look forward to running again today.  Luckily, I had a great night’s sleep, so I’m well rested for today’s slow jog.  And, after that?  Maybe a nap. 

Self-Care Tips: 

  • What activity or experience is pure joy, so much so that you lose track of time?  How do you feel thinking about it?  When you have a chance, try diving into the activity.  If there isn’t an opportunity, think about it for a moment and take note of how you feel while basking in that memory. 
  • Reflect on your week and make a note of anything that went better than expected?  Are you able to have gratitude for the better-than-anticipated experience?  If so, take a moment to be with that gratitude.  
  • Check in with your body.  Do you have an abundance of energy?  If so, do something physical to optimize that energy burst.  If not, take a moment (or more, if possible) to relax, letting your body know you’re listening.  

Fathers Day, The Twenty-Fourth Week of the Second Year in the New Abnormal

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Happy Father’s Day.  When I say that it conjures up so much for me and for so many others, I expect you included.  Many of us have had varied relationships with our fathers nothing like Father Knows Best, The Courtship of Eddie’s Father, Blackish, or even Home Improvement.  If only we could tune in for 30 minutes a week and enjoy the comical moments that focus on the highlights of the best parts of them, with a little silly thrown in.  

My dad was king when it came to bad dad jokes.  I would groan, embarrassed I had a dad who would even say “Don’t bother. Everything looks good this way,” every time I offered to clean his overly-smudged spectacles.  Larry, though fastidious with his eyewear, has taken on the torch of bad dad jokes.  Usually they’re groaners, but once in a while they make us laugh.  Maybe he’s not comedy ready, but the few good ones could be included in a non-existent situation comedy.  

Whatever our experience is with our dads, good, difficult, sad, troubled, no one is one dimensional.  I will always appreciate my father for working in his shoe store at age twelve and thirteen, my second job following babysitting.  I learned how to work the cash register, count backwards to give proper change, and people watch.  I could see when finances were tight, and the family was spending money they didn’t have to get back-to-school shoes for their children.  We always made sure they got a small toy to go with their purchase.  Of course, Buster Brown customers, the families who could afford new shoes for Autumn, in addition to maryjanes for special occasions, would get a molded replica of Tige, Buster Brown’s dog, or some other brand trinket.  

I recognized the lonely ladies who had difficult feet to fit who came in to find their next slip-ons, even though they would go home with nothing.  My dad worked as hard for them as any of his customers, even as he knew he needed to make his sales to keep his business afloat.  

I learned about hard work, and I learned about the unfairness of life while helping him out at the store.  I also learned how to clean a rug with an overused, old vacuum cleaner.  All valuable life lessons.  

Sometimes our dads inspire us to reparent ourselves.  Their best might not have been best for us.  So we muddle on learning from our mistakes, and theirs, so we can learn to care for ourselves better, as well as others others, if possible.  

Larry is a loving father.  He made sure that Alex benefitted from his music connections to see special shows and concerts.  He learned to love gently and learned acceptance as our son transitioned to a young trans man.  

Parenthood can be a lesson for all of us no matter who our fathers are or were, or even in their total absence.  Parenting is an ongoing process of love, patience, humility, joy, fear, sadness, awe, grief, and so much more.  But isn’t that true of all of life?  

Self-Care Tips:

  • Make a list of what you’ve learned from your father, good, bad or otherwise.  See how that imperfect relationship has shaped you. See if you are able to be grateful for something he/they brought to your life. 
  • Being caring to yourself today.  Reparent yourself in a way that embodies the parent you need at this time.  
  • Laugh.  It can be something dumb like a dad joke, but enjoy a moment of levity today.