We all need nurturing.  And we women do a lot of nurturing; some by choice, some because that’s how we’re programmed, and some just plain unconsciously.  

For me, nurturing is practically a way of life.  It’s so easy for me to overdo nurturing others that I don’t notice what I’m doing until I’ve essentially disappeared into the "needs" of others.  Recently while getting a manicure (my first this year...) the  manicurist said to me in her lovely Jamaican accent,  "You are carrying a large and beautiful umbrella, with sooo.. many people under it... but you are not under the umbrella yourself!  Look at you!”  She shook her head slowly, not in sympathy, in exasperation.

I was startled, and a little resentful.  After all, I had just met this woman!  I didn't ask how she knew the state of my body, let alone my psyche.  Perhaps coming from a more tranquil culture, she is naturally  more intuitive or maybe my appearance gave me away.  No matter, she was right and I knew it. Grudgingly.

Self-care is hard work and takes time; a lot of time. It’s so easy to put it off.  And for us writers, I think it’s doubly challenging since most of us work on our “own time.”   It's hard to find time for that cardio workout when someone needs to pick up the  kids;  it’s simpler to "do it myself" than let someone else struggle with the chore while I respect my writing time,  faster to answer the cell than to  let it go to voicemail while I read, more expedient to run that last load of dishes than to get to bed on time.  I could go on, but if you're reading this, you know the drill.   It's insidious.  I don't see it happening until I'm caught in the downpour.  And at that point, my writing time has suffered, or if I’m writing, I’ve lost my edge.  I’ve developed “Nurturers Block."

I confess, I like the warm fuzzies I get from holding the umbrella over others.  But it comes at a cost.  My writing time, since it’s “discretionary” is exceptionally vulnerable to attack by potential “nurturees."  The Jamaican lady was right;  if I neglect my own needs (and writing is one of them), not only will I become a discontented frump,  eventually I will collapse and become someone else's problem; the very last thing I want.  It's not just “good for me" to take care of myself; it’s my responsibility.  Maybe time to let someone else hold the umbrella.  Thanks for the reminder, pretty lady.

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