And even though these things may lead to anxiety, I will continue to push through what I consider a minor inconvenience until I feel uncomfortable enough that I’m convinced something’s wrong with me.
This is one profile of an anxious mind at work.
So now that I’ve been at home for a couple months, sliding through every emotional state and scared of dying half the time, I’ve also had enough practice to know that if I take care of my basic needs, I usually won’t devolve into an anxious ball of tangled nerves. Stop working and take care of yourself, Kanani. Feed yourself, Kanani. Turn the fan on, Kanani. Go for a walk, meditate, take another sip of water, floss and brush your teeth, close the door, say no, take a nap, FIND VALUE IN YOUR VOICE.
Above all, that’s what finally makes its way from the core of my stubbornness.
Deanna tells Michonne, amid a zombie apocalypse where survival trumps every other desire— even as Deanna’s dying, she urges, “What do you want? Now you figure it out.” I’d like to believe her advice is intended to remind Michonne she’s more than a warrior, that the quality of her life is measured beyond how useful she is to other people. In finding what she wants and pursuing it, Michonne doesn’t just survive, she lives.
It’s not about comfort at all, you see. I didn’t. I thought by indulging in self-care, I was being selfish, weak, and ungrateful. But it’s about honoring my body and my mind. It's about honoring what I want, what I think, and what I value. Taking care of myself isn't selfish, it's an act of gratitude. Thich Nhat Hanh writes, “Keeping your body healthy is an expression of gratitude to the whole cosmos— the trees, the clouds, everything.”
