Maybe Taking Care of Yourself Doesn't Look the Way You Thought It Would

I have a confession to make.

Last week, I made a declaration that I was no longer going to put myself at the bottom of my priority list.

I wrote this while in the midst of taking almost 13,000 steps prepping for a home project.

So, you know. Off to a great start.

That evening, while enjoying a steak Caesar salad, illness struck.

I started getting nauseous. My skin hurt. My body ached.

My anxiously wired brain immediately decided I had Cyclospora. I told ChatGPT my fears, my mind was put somewhat at ease, and then the nausea ramped up and my body started shivering with fever.

Sunday became a day of binge-watching Bridgerton.

I couldn't work on anything.

I was annoyed.

But there was also a part of me grinning at what felt like a very direct message from the Universe:

“Lay the fuck down. You aren't putting energy forth—mental or physical.”

Well played, Universe. Well played.

Maybe I hadn't heard the slow down and make yourself a priority message soon enough.

Maybe I just had a virus.

Probably the virus.

But I also know my body, and I know what I feel like when I've been going too fast and doing too much.

So all projects were delayed.

I didn't get back to the gym until Friday.

The dogs didn't get walked every day.

I ate a lot of takeout.

I eventually painted a ceiling—which, incidentally, I DO NOT recommend. It's hell.

I saw my clients.

I worked on launching my mentorship.

And I did all of it much more slowly than I wanted to.

There was a time when my inner critic would have had a heyday with this kind of imperfection.

I could hear the whispers:

“Nichole, WHO are you to teach people how to take care of themselves?”

“You literally just wrote an entire thing about making yourself a priority. How's that going?”

One of my biggest fears is being out of integrity. I never want to teach something I'm not actually willing to live.

But I chose not to listen to those voices.

Because all week, I kept asking myself:

What do I really need right now?

And I listened.

I ordered pho.

I did many yoga nidras.

I practiced gentle asana.

I sat outside.

I breathed down into my pelvis and through my legs.

I moved as slowly as I possibly could.

And when I finally felt well enough to go back to the gym, I went.

I didn't decide that because I'd missed most of the week, I'd blown my whole routine and might as well give up.

And somewhere in all of this I realized:

Maybe taking care of myself was never going to mean doing everything right.

Maybe it looks more like staying in relationship with myself when everything goes wrong.

I didn't go to the gym on schedule.

I didn't cook beautiful, nourishing meals.

I didn't walk the dogs every day.

I certainly wasn't following some ideal Ayurvedic routine.

But I kept asking:

What do I need now?

And then, as much as I could, I listened.

Maybe that's the practice.

Not perfect self-care.

Care.

And maybe this isn't a confession after all.

Maybe it's an invitation.

Because you can have the very best intentions about how you're going to care for yourself—and then life has other plans.

The practice isn't making sure that never happens.

The practice is learning how to care for yourself when it does.

Learning to care for yourself not perfectly, but by becoming more attentive to what you actually need—is at the heart of Living Ayurveda, the small fall mentorship I'm offering for women this September. If you're curious, you can learn more and join the interest list here.