Seasons

Seasons

When we're young and just starting out, there's a saying that we have time but no money.

Then we get a little older.

We find our careers. We build relationships. We have children. We become involved in our communities. We take on more responsibilities.

Now we have money, but no time.

Eventually, if we're fortunate, we reach another season of life. The kids may be grown. The career is established. The financial foundation we've spent decades building is stronger. Some of the responsibilities that once consumed us begin to fade.

And we think:

This is it.

This is the season when we finally have time and money.

We've made it.

But I wonder about something.

What about our health?

While we're grinding through those middle years, building careers, raising families, supporting other people, and trying to create financial security, how often do we put ourselves on the back burner?

Our bodies.

Our minds.

Our relationships.

Our emotional and spiritual well-being.

We tell ourselves we'll get to it later.

We'll exercise when things slow down.

We'll get that physical when we have more time.

We'll deal with that nagging pain when work isn't so busy.

We'll sleep more when the kids are older.

We'll take care of ourselves once we've taken care of everyone else.

And sometimes, "later" becomes years.

Maybe decades.

Then we arrive at the season of life where we finally have more freedom, only to discover that the body and mind we've been asking to carry us all these years need some attention too.

The second half of our lives can look very different from what we imagined when we were younger.

This is why I believe we need to prioritize ourselves in every season of life.

Especially during the seasons when it feels hardest.

That's often when we need it most.

We talk about securing our own oxygen mask before helping someone else on an airplane. It's a simple metaphor, but I think it's easy to forget in the middle of everyday life.

We tell ourselves:

"I can't right now."

"I can, but only if..."

"I'll take care of myself when..."

And sometimes those things are legitimate. There are seasons when our responsibilities really are greater than our capacity.

But I wonder if we sometimes use our circumstances as evidence that we are not allowed to take care of ourselves.

What if self-care doesn't have to mean finding an hour at the gym, taking a weeklong vacation, or completely changing our lives?

What if it can be much smaller?

Mindfulness.

Five minutes.

Before you get out of bed.

Sitting in the car after dropping the kids off.

While you're waiting for someone to pick up.

Just breathe.

Notice what's happening in your body.

Notice what you're thinking.

Notice how you're feeling.

You don't have to fix anything.

Just notice.

Movement.

It doesn't have to be CrossFit or cardio kickboxing.

Take a walk.

Push a stroller or wheelchair with someone you love.

Stretch for ten minutes.

Do some bodyweight exercises.

Walk up and down the stairs on a rainy day.

Move your body in a way that works for the season you're in.

Writing.

Get what's in your head onto paper.

Journal.

Write down what's bothering you.

Write down what you're grateful for.

Try starting or ending the day with three things you appreciate.

Sometimes changing what we pay attention to can change how we experience our lives.

Rest.

This one is easy to overlook.

Rest isn't laziness.

It's maintenance.

Our bodies and minds aren't machines that can operate indefinitely without being cared for.

Maintenance.

Go to the doctor.

Pay attention to the pain you've been ignoring.

Get the bloodwork.

Take care of the things you've been putting off.

You don't have to wait until something is seriously wrong before you decide you're worth taking care of.

And here's the part I think is easy to miss:

Taking care of yourself isn't only about you.

It's also about the people you love.

We spend much of our lives taking care of other people because we love them.

But what happens if we consistently neglect ourselves in the process?

Eventually, the people we prioritized may have to take care of us.

That's not a reason to feel guilty.

It's simply another reason to consider the balance.

Maybe securing your oxygen mask first isn't selfish.

Maybe it's one of the most loving things you can do.

Because when you take care of yourself, you increase your capacity to be there for everyone else.

Every season asks something different of us.

The young parent may need flexibility.

The person building a career may need discipline.

The caregiver may need boundaries.

The person approaching retirement may need to rediscover purpose.

The empty nester may need to rediscover identity.

The person entering a new chapter may need courage.

We don't need to take care of ourselves the same way in every season.

But we do need to take care of ourselves in every season.

Because nothing is promised to us.

Not tomorrow.

Not the next season.

And certainly not that perfect future we keep telling ourselves we'll enjoy once we finally have the time.

Maybe the time to start caring for ourselves isn't someday.

Maybe it's in the season we're already in.

What season of life are you in right now—and what does taking care of yourself look like in this season?