"If you have good thoughts they will shine out of your face like sunbeams and you will always look lovely."
Roald Dahl
Roald Dahl
Over the last year, I developed my first wrinkle. It's a faint, squiggly line between my eyebrows, the type that anyone gets when they squint for too long.
I was proud of it at first, because I knew it came from years of thinking too hard. Thinking too hard helped me in classrooms, where I reigned as queen of critical analysis.
But in the last few months, I came to hate that wrinkle. Something in my brain had gone sour, and I was too often furrowing my brow out of frustration with myself or fear of a perceived threat.
The wrinkle wasn't an unexpected side effect of working hard; it was an unintended consequence of being anxious.
I wouldn't fess up to my cycle of negative thinking for a long time. My boyfriend worried about me, rubbed my back when I cried and took me out for pancakes when I needed a sugary distraction. But the stress always came back and the wrinkle never went away.
This weekend, I finally admitted to myself that I need to make some serious changes. Mike and I listened to a short audiobook about anxiety, learning new ways to combat unhealthy thinking patterns.
I don't mean to sound melodramatic about all this. I am not planning to seek medical help or take medication or get rid of that wrinkle with Botox. But I am recommitting to taking care of myself, whether that means getting more pancakes or writing more blogs or going for a run.
Students at Yale Divinity School loved talking about self-care, and I thought I'd soaked in all their wisdom during my two years there. I love taking myself out for coffee or reading a trashy magazine in warm sunshine.
But sometime in the last year, I lost track of what it is I actually need. I check "self-care" off a monthly to-do list without stopping to figure out if it was actually working.
But my self-care needs some work, and I'm excited about trying new things. It turns out that I love painting while listening to Mumford & Sons and waking up early to sip coffee next to a purring cat.
I want to love me again, wrinkle and all. Thanks for walking with me as I figure it out.
I was proud of it at first, because I knew it came from years of thinking too hard. Thinking too hard helped me in classrooms, where I reigned as queen of critical analysis.
But in the last few months, I came to hate that wrinkle. Something in my brain had gone sour, and I was too often furrowing my brow out of frustration with myself or fear of a perceived threat.
The wrinkle wasn't an unexpected side effect of working hard; it was an unintended consequence of being anxious.
I wouldn't fess up to my cycle of negative thinking for a long time. My boyfriend worried about me, rubbed my back when I cried and took me out for pancakes when I needed a sugary distraction. But the stress always came back and the wrinkle never went away.
This weekend, I finally admitted to myself that I need to make some serious changes. Mike and I listened to a short audiobook about anxiety, learning new ways to combat unhealthy thinking patterns.
I don't mean to sound melodramatic about all this. I am not planning to seek medical help or take medication or get rid of that wrinkle with Botox. But I am recommitting to taking care of myself, whether that means getting more pancakes or writing more blogs or going for a run.
Students at Yale Divinity School loved talking about self-care, and I thought I'd soaked in all their wisdom during my two years there. I love taking myself out for coffee or reading a trashy magazine in warm sunshine.
But sometime in the last year, I lost track of what it is I actually need. I check "self-care" off a monthly to-do list without stopping to figure out if it was actually working.
But my self-care needs some work, and I'm excited about trying new things. It turns out that I love painting while listening to Mumford & Sons and waking up early to sip coffee next to a purring cat.
I want to love me again, wrinkle and all. Thanks for walking with me as I figure it out.