Alternative Self Care Options: Creating Connections
My therapist asks me weekly, “What are you doing for self-care?” It’s never an easy question to answer. If she had asked me in my twenties, as a new mom, my answer would have been, “Taking a walk to the grocery store, talking to the clerk for my sanity, and using moisturizer, if I could remember, daily.”
Somewhere along the way, as my family grew and my business expanded, I began tying self-care to success. If I taught more yoga classes, well, I was more successful in business and, of course, was engaging in more yoga, so the self-care took care of itself—or so I thought. But working—even at something you love—is not the same as self-care.
As life around me grew, my internal life seemed to shrink. Fewer things were simply for me. Fewer things were creative. I dug out an old costume box and found a belly dance top I had sewn during a workshop I once hosted. That sparkly velveteen piece shook me. I no longer belly danced for myself. I no longer crafted things of beauty simply for the joy of creating them. Somewhere along the way, creativity became something I offered other people instead of something I experienced myself.
I have surrounded myself with enough art supplies to open a store; clearly, I have a desire to create. My struggle has never been with wanting to create, but with deciding what to create and what to do with it afterward. Looking back, I can see how old beliefs about productivity and worth quietly found their way into my creative life. Add a season of downsizing and trying to live more simply, and even choosing what to make began to feel surprisingly complicated.
I had been dabbling in painting—watercolor and acrylics through park district classes—when an Instagram post about creating postcards for Postcrossing appeared in my feed. It felt like fortune was smiling upon me. Creating artwork that I could then send away. Artwork that didn't need to become a business. It didn't need to earn money. It didn't even need to stay in my house. It simply needed to brighten someone else's mailbox.
These were the seeds of self-care.
Thirty minutes a day, in my office. No siblings shrieking at each other. No answering my partner's questions about where things are. Just quiet time to create, and then connect with someone else somewhere in the world.
The first postcards I created were part of my Postcrossing’s “Mollusks Through the Mail” themed exchange—a perfect excuse to combine watercolor practice, creativity, and connection.
