👋 Take care of yourself
It's Monday. I'm Here for You.
When someone says:
Take care.
It’s usually not what they mean to say.
They usually mean:
Good luck. Find your own way. Go off, but don’t come back here.
The last boss I ever had said those words to me after he told me I was getting laid off.
We’ll miss you around here. He said. Take care out there!
I just lost the only steady paycheck I had and my access to discounted health insurance. I had no idea how to take care without those two things.
Someone I went on a few dates with tried to get the point across that we were through. He said: Nice to meet you, take care.
Do you think he deeply hoped I’d take good care of myself after ditching me on the third date? No. He just didn’t to hear from me again.
But this week, an urgent care doctor asked: Who is taking care of you?
And it finally made sense.
Welcome to the Monday Pick-Me-Up. Last week I ended up in urgent care for one thing but left with a prescription for something else.
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Take care of yourself, will ya?
I swung the door open and rushed to the front desk of the urgent care down the block.
It’s 7:55 pm, and they close at 8. The receptionist lifted her eyes and didn’t say a word. She wanted to go home. She did not want to deal with me.
I am… I paused to inhale and exhale three times. So sorry.
I ran half a mile as fast as I could to get here before they closed. I can’t breathe, but that’s not why I’m here. It’s just what is preventing me from explaining why I am here to a woman who doesn’t want to be there longer than she already has to be.
My hand. I said, showing her. Please, can I see someone before you close?
I did not want to go to the emergency room. I am fiercely scared of all things medical. I always have been. The only way I was able to give birth in a hospital setting was because I spent nine months preparing myself for that one day, taking every class I could, and making Adam promise me he would not leave my side for a second.
She looked at the redness on my palm, the purple streaks, the way my entire right arm was shaking.
Take a seat. she said.
Thirty minutes earlier, I was throwing ingredients into the largest pot I have to make myself soup.
Gemma (the baby) wasn’t feeling well, sleeping well, or eating well. When she’s sick, I am entirely consumed with how to make her better. But I ended up sick myself.
They say you shouldn’t operate heavy machinery when you’re on medications that make you drowsy. But they should also give that warning about cooking when you’re feeling extremely distracted, highly anxious, and feverish too.
I rested a stainless steel ladle over the pot of boiling soup. I left it there. Did a bunch of things. Came back…and grabbed it with my right hand.
Ahhhhhhh. I screamed. I dropped the ladle. I fell to the ground. I squeezed my hand.
Adam rushed over in panic. I looked at my palm, and it was bright red and rapidly tingling.
I’m okay, I’m okay, I’m okay.
But after we put Gemma to bed, I turned to Adam and folded.
I am not okay.
The burn seemed really bad on my hand. It was large and raw. It started to turn purple.
This was an accident. I am so lucky that in my 35 years of life, I’ve never burned myself this bad while cooking. That’s probably because I rarely cook but also because I try to be hyper-aware when I’m around dangerous things, like boiling soup.
But lately, my mind feels like it doesn’t fit inside my body anymore. It’s stretched. It’s worn out. It’s all over the place.
The doctor came in and looked at my hand.
Boiling soup. Hot ladle. I shared him in that order.
He doused it with a prescription cream and wrapped it with gauze.
You will be okay. He said before giving me instructions not to get my hand wet and to reapply the cream every few hours.
Anyone around to take care of you? He asked.
Thursday marks one year as a mom.
There are so many tremendous things about being a new mom. You feel love in a very different way than you ever have. You learn that not much else matters except your baby, even when she’s not right in front of you. You have this overarching reason to get out of bed every single day, and you need that because what is life without a strong-willed purpose?
But there are also a lot of secret and invisible struggles that a new mom goes through.
Perhaps one of the hardest of those things is that nobody is really there to take care of you anymore. There’s not enough time, focus, or energy for you. You’re the momma! You’re supposed to be good at taking care of everyone else. Yet nobody knows what you have to sacrifice to do so. You almost wish more people asked you: Is there anyone taking care of you?
Not so you can be pitied, but so you can pull yourself out of the fog of it all and realize the answer is: No, not right now.
No, not right now. I told him.
There are some people who are good at taking care of themselves and some people who are really good at taking care of others.
I have always been the kind of person to give everything to the people I love. Those who take better care of others, hope others will take care of them.
The doctor sat down in a chair. It’s 8:15 pm. I can hear the staff outside packing up to leave. I don’t want to waste this his time anymore, especially because the problem I came here for is solved.
I knew what he was about to say. I tried to beat him to it.
I’ll take care of myself. I said, grabbing my purse and repeating his instructions so he knows I’m capable. I promise.
I don’t know how to tell you this, he said.
Please don’t say it, I thought to myself. Pleas don’t say the most cliché thing ever.
If you’re not taking care of yourself, how can you care for others?
Gah. He said it. He really said it.
I cringed a little in my chair and let the pain from my hand take over my senses. I knew he was right. I know the person who said those words first was right. But it’s not so easy — I’m balancing, juggling, taking care of so many other fragile things.
Not me. At least not now.
It’s been almost a week and the burn on my hand is much better.
I followed all the instructions he gave me to help it heal. I am still thinking about his cliche advice.
If I can’t take care of myself, I will be wobbly. Everything in my life will start to tip over — flirt with falling apart.
I used to think take care of yourself was a backhanded way of saying goodbye to a person you never wanted to see again.
But perhaps it’s the kindest thing you can wish for a person. May they learn a mega secret to life that I’m still trying to master:
That you will have moments when other people take care of you, but as you are taking care of everyone else, become good at taking care of yourself too.
⚡Instant Pick Me Ups
📚: I didn’t read at all this week but I did start watching a few new TV shows.
Love is Blind season 6. Easy to watch while doing chores around the house
The Trust. Also an easy to show to watch in the background
The Gentleman. Very violent and a little scary. If you liked Ozark, you’ll love this.
🎵: A good beat for a song to dance around to.
Ps. a full list of pick-me-ups are right here.
😮 Progress Report:
Tiny little updates about my life and things from past newsletters
Major PSA! After I burned my hand, I replaced my kitchen utensils from being purely stainless steel to having handles on them so that when I grab a ladle or other utensil, I don’t burn my hand. Do this! Do this!
I did not go to psychical therapy last week for my knee. I am starting to feel like writing about going is jinxing the whole thing. I’m wildly superstitious. But I had a fever and I had to cancel. For those of you rooting for me, thank you. I am not making you proud (LOL) but it’s still on my to-do list.
Just writing to share how special this week is for me. I met and married Adam on March 19th + went into labor with Gem on March 19th. Gemma was born on March 21st (a 38-hour labor!!!) and we’ll celebrate her first birthday on Thursday as well as my first year of being a mom - wow.
I have a million stories I can share with you, but what do you want to hear in next week’s newsletter? Tell me! Tell me!
Why you’re getting this: I'm Jen Glantz and this is The Monday Pick-Me-Up newsletter. I've been sending it every Monday, for 9-years, to thousands of awesome humans, just like you. Thank you for letting this email live in your inbox. It truly makes my heart explode with joy.
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Friends who leave
A&D ointment is the best for treating skin burns.