I’ve always been better at taking care of other people than of myself. It isn’t the worst thing in the world. I really do enjoy taking care of other people. It makes me feel happy, and that’s the kind of self care I can get behind.
What I don’t enjoy is being a martyr.
I have a habit, a long running habit, of waiting for other people to take care of me. Of expecting them to jump in and offer to help me even if I didn’t ask. Of being disappointed when people don’t see exactly what I need, even when I’ve made every effort to hide it from them.
If you aren’t sure yet whether I’m completely ridiculous, let me share a story with you.
A few months ago, my husband and I were at a little market near our house. We were there to look at plants for our garden, but they also had the most beautiful display of baked goods.
If you don’t know this about me already? I like cake. A lot.
As we walked by it, I eyed up the cake. I slowed my walking, paused even, looking at it out of the corner of my eye. I stood there, waiting for my husband to say “Do you want anything?” or “Let me get you a treat” or “You know what you totally deserve? Cake.”
He didn’t. Of course.
So we left without cake. And I tell you that this happened a few MONTHS ago, so you realize that I still think about it. About that cake that no one got for me.
So, this past week I went to the Farmer’s Market for some lettuce. I went fully knowing there was a girl there who sold homemade cupcakes. And I bought myself some cake.
When my husband asked me what I got, I told him, “Oh, lettuce and melons and peaches. Oh and a cupcake.”
He got a puzzled look on his face, “Why did you get a cupcake?”
“Because I wanted one.”