Philosophies of Caretaking

A new season means a refreshed way of thinking about how we show up in the world

Note: This week’s edition is about caretaking as a whole and not specifically Mothers Day. I’d say it’s Mothers Day adjacent (doesn’t mention it…with the exception of this note) but really about all the ways caretakers show up in our lives. But I wanted to make sure I gave a little bit of a content heads-up in case this is a difficult subject for you. If that’s the case, take care of yourself and I’ll see you next week.  

Caretaking is a common subject this time of year. I’m not only talking about caretakers. Although, considering the day, that’s certainly a part of it. More specifically, I’m talking about the act of caretaking. 

Any time a season changes, caretaking ends up rattling around my subconscious quite a bit. A change in season, particularly if you live somewhere where the differences between the four seasons are stark, inherently means that the caretaking changes. The way you dress, the way you take care of your stuff, the way you eat, the energy in which you approach your people and your world, it all recalibrates to meet the needs of the moment. In summer, it means shorts and tanks while trying to stay hydrated with much more fervor. In fall, it becomes largely about preparing for holidays and hibernation. In winter, it’s keeping layers and blankets as close as possible and finding the perfect soup recipe. In spring, it’s a major clean (if that’s your thing) and a re-emergence into longer days. 

For once, I'm not making a list.

Some of caretaking falls into the category of self-care but I bristle a little at using that term these days. It has become such a buzz word, commodified to solve “new” problems various industries have created or amplified to market new products. The pop-culture use of the term doesn’t take into account that self-care can and will look different for each person. We don’t all need care in the same ways. We don’t all show up in our own lives with the same exact caretaking skills. 

That’s really what I think with each new season, particularly spring: the way I show up for myself, for others, in the world. My birthday usually marks my restart for the next year which, inevitably, causes some existential self-reflection. [Millennial] LOL, what doesn’t cause existential self-reflection in me? Which is also something I point out every time it drops out of my mouth or on to the page. Some things are cyclical. Some things are repetitive. Some things take us way off track.

So…oh, that’s right….showing up as caretaking. I have long thought of myself as a caretaker. It probably began when I was pretty young; I was a latchkey kid with a little brother. I ended up in charge of a lot (too much) young which, outside of the pretty constant bickering, really just meant making sure we were fed and alive by the time my parents got home. That was mostly successful, I’d say. There were minimal injuries and a lot of macaroni and cheese. 

At this point in my life, some of my basic philosophies of caretaking others are this: listening, presence, and baked goods. Those are the philosophies at the top of my list, anyway.

Baked goods is an easy one. Far be it from me to show up anywhere without a baked good if it’s at all possible. It serves two purposes—one for others and one for me. Baking is a big way I show love. But baking is also some of the only times I can get my brain to turn off. It’s methodical and meditative for me. Plus, if I also get to eat some of whatever it is, bonus.

Listening and presence are really the backbone of how I approach my relationships in general but particularly important in terms of how I show up for others and how I offer care. There is nothing I love more than being able to surprise someone with the perfect gift because they said something off-hand one time that I happened to catch. I love being someone you know you can come and hang out with in any situation. I’m more than happy to sit with someone, to just be, and, when the time is right, make some sort of sarcastic comment or joke. I do love a good, lively conversation, verbal volleyball if you will. Most of the time, I’d rather not say much. At least not at first. Sometimes there is simply nothing to say. But there’s always more to listen to.

Writing out this initial list of caretaking philosophies feels short to me, actually. I feel like the list used to be longer. It used to include things like being reachable 24/7, jumping into action whenever a friend hit the slightest difficulty, sacrificing large parts of myself, and avoidance of conflict to appear to remain steady. While aversion to conflict is still present mostly as an anxiety response, the other things on the list have, at least partly, fallen away over the years. 

Sometimes I think I used to be a better caretaker, a better person really. I feel like I had more energy, more room in my heart, and less dark clouds in my brain. It took a lot more to annoy me and a lot less to make me feel valuable to people. But, like everyone, I’ve grown. Time has passed and I’ve learned a lot more about myself. I’ve worked hard to learn a lot about myself. And what I know now is that selflessness can actually be selfish in its own way. Showing up for others is obviously important and necessary. Being endlessly available emotionally, mentally, and physically for everyone else usually means that you’re not present for yourself. Knowingly showing up last for yourself can mean you aren’t showing up well for anyone, in general. The outcome then is suffering, mostly your own, and not what we would all hope for—mutual connection, joy, and reciprocal relationships. 

It’s a lesson that I’ve had to learn the hard way many times. It’s a lesson I’m certain I will continue to relearn for my whole life. It’s a lesson that will make me mad every time I have to relearn it because shouldn’t we just be able to learn something and then know it?! It’s a lesson, whether true or not, that does make me feel like I used to be a better person. It’s also a lesson that has shown me the real benefit of having a few concrete standards and boundaries for yourself. That’s a lesson that is not wasted.

My requirements for anyone in my life are simply presence and follow-through. I don’t know how to articulate what I need most of the time but I know those are two things I need from my relationships. One of those requirements is an overlap with what I give in my caretaking. The other requirement I came to through a lot of tough experiences. And also, through a lot of wonderful people. 

Because, the thing about caretaking is that it’s literally all around. (No, not a Love Actually reference. Bleh.) While I’m fighting through the swamp of self-compassion, I’m watching other people fight through other terrains, learning lessons that are similar, different, more difficult, more obvious. What has really brought happiness to my life over the years, what has really made me feel awe, is seeing the ways in which my family and friends are caretakers of their people and their own lives. 

Sure, it’s incredibly heartwarming to see people grow into caretakers in “traditional” (whatever that means) ways. But there are so many other ways too. It’s inspiring to watch my people find jobs or careers or activities that make them feel good, powerful, useful, and valuable. I have friends who are blazing paths for themselves that I, then, get to saunter down. I know people who share their mental, emotional, cultural, physical, medical, etc. struggles in public ways, loudly reminding some people that empathy is always a positive and showing other people they are not alone in whatever they are going through. My people have fought through traumatic experiences, learned how to beautifully fold grief into their everyday lives, and sometimes just said, “Fuck it. I’m done. Let’s try something new.” And, while it probably goes without saying at this point, I’ve seen all of them also show up for others in thunderous ways, in quiet and specific ways, in off-center ways that turn out to be exactly the right ways. 

I decided a long time ago that the one thing I will always strive to do is to always show myself respect. It has become my ultimate form of caretaking for myself. No, I’m not always successful. I am always trying though. And I don’t think I ever would have learned this lesson if it hadn’t been for all the caretakers and magnificent caretaking I’ve witnessed in my life. To simultaneously show up for others and show care for yourself is no simple feat; it’s one of the most complicated things about being human. 

One of the simplest things about being human, however, is to take a small moment of gratitude. So, thanks for reading all the sap. And thank you, sincerely, to all my caretakers out there, in whatever form you show up in.    

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Fitting, considering the whole thing above.

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