I’m coming off of a long weekend that required me to do a lot of work interacting with people. Much as I love what I do, I also suffer from social anxiety disorder (more on that in another post). Thing is, I get asked all the time what I do for self care, and I honestly have no idea what that even means. I mean, I have a vague concept of it. But from what I can glean between the pages of Cosmo and Prevention, it has a lot do with idyllic-looking slim white women doing mindful meditation, whispering affirmations, and practicing yoga. I think the last straw was reading a magazine article on self care in a doctor’s office that suggested wearing a funny hat at a jaunty angle all day or go to work wearing a plastic mustache and offer no explanation. That was pretty much the point at which I decided that although black people suffer from the types of emotional trauma that white people could not even conceive, this [thoroughly middle class] culture of self care is not for us. It is liable to get us fired from our jobs (as if underemployment doesn’t already disproportionately affect us) or get us killed. Mind you, I’m not here to hate on white lady self care. If going to the symphony and buying balloons is your lane, do it.
But here’s what I do for self care. And please disabuse yourself in advance of any notion whatsoever that what I do for self care is in the least bit healthy. In fact, these things are downright self destructive. Why? Because being black and queer is messy. Like everything about my fucking life. And not everything I do has to be designed to rehabilitate my soul or make me one with the universe. Most of the time, everything I do is about keeping the lights on for a few more weeks. This isn’t about my long-term health and well-being. It’s about my fucking survival and being able to make it the next five minutes without inconsolably sobbing. And when that five minutes is over, then we worry about the next five minutes. Because my life is divided into moments when I’m inconsolably sobbing and moments when I’m trying to disguise how puffy my eyes are from inconsolably sobbing. So here’s my tips:
Fuck somebody bad for you. Do you have an ex that’s been trying to get in your panties? Let them. But if you set your life on fire and change cities as frequently as I do, then an ex might not be accessible. In which case, find somebody fuckable on the internet and arrange a casual hookup. Bottom line, just get the hell out there and throw yer goddamn cat at somebody you couldn’t care less about. Don’t try to be too cute. You won’t see this person again. Just wash out your bits and brush your teeth. Believe me, they’ll be doing the same. Is this going to solve all your problems? No. But if you’re anything like me, you spend about 90% of your time feeling like you’re not pretty enough or attractive enough or athletic enough. And it doesn’t matter how many times your friends tell you otherwise, you’re just NEVER GOING TO BELIEVE IT. This is about getting the validation that somebody thinks you’re good enough to bang. At least in this moment. Just use protection. The last thing you want or need is an STD. They’re annoying and expensive. And your broke ass does NOT have time to take off from work and go to the fucking clap clinic.
- Masturbate. Can’t find somebody to fuck you? Don’t have time to look? Already have a committed monogamous partner (in which case, lucky you!)? Fine. Take care of your goddamn self. You don’t even have to get your depressed ass out of bed for this one. Just handle your business and keep it moving. You just need to take the edge off. And half your nasty asses are doing it at work anyway.
Eat until you feel sick. Doctor Oz will probably ask you if you really NEED that seitanburger…or how will you FEEL after you eat all those Oreos…or maybe did that container of frosting REALLY make you happy. But that charlatan is not paying your ever-increasing pile of fucking bills. Are you concerned with the amount of palm oil in your processed foods? Yes. Does chocolate obtained as the product of West African child slaves concern you? Also yes. But are you in the middle of a full-blown emotional crisis and incapable of making ethical decisions about your consumption habits? Definitely yes. So it doesn’t matter in this moment what the long-term health consequences are of these ramen noodles. And you’re not in the mood to be shamed for not following a whole foods diet. You can solve the world’s problems tomorrow when you’re back in one of those non-inconsolable crying moments. Oreos and bacon Pringles are vegan. And today, that’s enough.
- Sleep. Yes, you are experiencing a wave of depression that is sapping your energy and making it impossible to move. Might as well use it to catch up on your rest because you otherwise work 75-hour weeks for what is never enough money.
- Be petty. Period.
- Say no…and nothing else. Because no is a complete fucking sentence and it’s not nobody’s goddamn business why you choose it. So no explanation is necessary and anyone who doesn’t like it can go to hell.
- Be ignorant and belligerent. When you’re black, everyone thinks you’re angry anyway. Give them a reason. It’s not incumbent upon you to be poised and elegant and composed and professional all the time. Trust me. Your eloquence is wasted on people who are not looking for a rational explanation. Save your energy for the people who you can tell want and deserve loving education. You can see the pricks who are trying to be a pain in the ass from a mile away. So give them hell. You don’t have to respond with patience and understanding every time someone commits a racial or homophobic transgression against you. Sometimes the answer isn’t a link to a study or a detailed explanation to coolly explain why they’re wrong. Sometimes the answer is “Your fucking mother…that’s why.” And that’s okay. You deserve to have a bad day.
- Spend money you know goddamn well you don’t have. Is that $400 student loan payment due tomorrow? Yup. Do you have $400 to pay it? Nope. Do you have $20 to spend on this top that was probably made in a Chinese sweat shop? You do? Well look at gawd! Guess who just got themselves a new fucking top. Let’s face it. That $20 was not going to get that bill paid one way or the other. So you might as well be able to spend money on SOMETHING that makes you feel slightly less crummy in this shitty-ass capitalist society that is burning everything and everyone you love to dust.