I actually made a new episode for my first podcast, Adventures With Postpartum Depression. (So for listeners of Adventures With My Forties, you did not pull a Rip Van Winkle and miss seventy episodes!)

I wanted to drop in and say, “Hello!” to all the listeners to Adventures With Postpartum Depression because the e-book of my memoir, Adventures With Postpartum Depression, is free RIGHT NOW, from December 8-12, on Amazon. Download now, listen whenever you want. It’s my early Christmas gift for all the mamas struggling right now. (And for everyone else! You do not have to be a struggling mama to read the book.)

While I was saying hello, I thought I would give a pep talk for all the postpartum mamas because sometimes, you just need someone to tell you, “You can do this. Yeah, this is tough. But I believe in you.” Because seriously, mamas, I do believe in you and I know how tough newborns are – and in 2020, sweet mercy, there’s a whole extra dimension to the toughness.

Here are the main points I tried to make in my Episode 86 Postpartum Pep Talk:

1. It gets easier.
2. Babies are tough.
3. You are not alone.
4. You don’t have to prove yourself to anyone. Haters gonna hate.
5. You did nothing wrong.
6. You are enough.
7. Babies are all different.
8. If you have a maternal mood disorder, you don’t have to conquer it today or tomorrow or next week. It’s like you broke your back. Would you expect someone in a full body cast to get better tomorrow? Give yourself the same grace. Mental health matters as much as physical health.
9. You don’t have to treasure every moment. I’m sorry, but a blowout poopy diaper at 2 a.m. is no one’s idea of a good time.
10. You are allowed to make mistakes. Perfect is boring! Our children are entitled to our mistakes. In fact, if you never make a single mistake while raising your children, my god, you are setting the bar really high! Do your kids a favor and make a few (thousand) mistakes.

This is the pep talk I needed to hear when I was in the throes of postpartum depression, anxiety and OCD. I hope it helps someone struggling now. I am rooting for all of you and sending you my love!

p.s. Listen to this episode as often as you like!

The holidays are coming and spoiler alert: they are going to look a lot different this year, at least here in Pasadena, thanks to the pandemic.

For Thanksgiving, we are changing things up. Our gathering will be much smaller than usual. Instead of having full access to my parents’ kitchen, I’ll do all my cooking and baking at home, mostly the day before. Instead of eating at 5ish, we will eat outdoors at 1ish. Instead of making the turkey, my parents are ordering a bird from Honey Baked Ham.

And this is the just the current plan!

After I recorded this episode, I learned that Los Angeles County might go into another lockdown on Sunday. Fun times! I don’t know what that means for Thanksgiving. When I learned about the next potential lockdown (I am forcing myself to say “potential” although it feels “imminent”), I felt a ton of panic. Will there be another run on the grocery stores? Will I be able to get the ingredients I need for sweet potato casserole? But after the initial panic, I remembered Thanksgiving is a celebration of gratitude and if we can’t get turkey, we can be grateful for pizza.

The turkey is never even that exciting.

Though the prospect of another shutdown right before Thanksgiving still suuuuucks sooooo muuuuuuch.

Going forward, I am going to try to enjoy the 2020 holiday season as much as possible. With that in mind, these are a few principles I’m trying to follow (though I will surely forget and have to hit my personal reboot button again and again and again):

– Allow my feelings without wallowing in the negative ones.

– Embrace the adventure while mourning the losses. I already know that we won’t be celebrating Christmas Eve with my extended family. I am going to miss my Aunt Berta’s lasagna! And my family! So much! But we will figure out ways to be joyful without the lasagna. (The lasagna is the stuff of family legend.)

– Keep meditating, journaling, exercising and doing as many of the things that boost my mental health. These days, my mental health needs all the help it can get.

– If social media starts to feel like too much, I’ll take a social media fast for as long as I want. I’m pretty sure Instagram will survive without me!

On the bright side, shutdown or no shutdown, whatever happens with Thanksgiving, THERE IS NO SCHOOL NEXT WEEK. That means: A WHOLE WEEK VACATION FROM DISTANCE LEARNING! FUCK YEAH! That alone is cause for celebration.

In this episode, I revisited the topic of distance learning because hello, it’s 2020 and starting to feel like my second grader will never go back to “normal” school. I was in a 2020 rut at the beginning of October and feeling broken by distance learning. It is so time consuming! And aggravating! But then, my muse gave me an idea: I needed to stop working on my fantasy series and work on a new book called The Distance Learning Activity Book For Parents Just Barely Holding On To Their Last Shred Of Sanity. Writing and publishing that book restored my spirits – but damn, distance learning is still tough. Hence, this episode, in which I share about my struggles and the things that are helping me keep my last shred of sanity. 

I first talked about distance learning during Episode 4, Distance Learning and Mental Health. A few weeks ago, I actually listened to that episode and it was like getting a pep talk from myself. I almost never listen to my podcast episodes. It’s weird to hear my recorded voice! But I’m glad I listened to Episode 4, and if you are in distance learning hell, I highly recommend it. (Is it weird to recommend my own podcast? Because I just did.)

As of now, my son is going to preschool in person and my daughter is doing second grade remotely. Our district has announced that the kids will not be returning to in-person instruction before January 11, 2021. There’s no guarantee they will even return then so for now, the adventure continues.

These are some thoughts I have about distance learning.

1. It is hard because it is hard. I have to remind myself of that constantly. This has become our new normal and we have routines and habits and since we have been doing this for months, it feels like it should not be difficult. Why do I constantly feel like I have so little time to myself? Why do I feel drained and frustrated. Then I remember. This. Is. So. Fucking. Hard.
2. Paying attention and being curious about my feelings helps. My knee jerk reaction is to stuff down difficult feelings (usually with food) but when I catch myself having feelings that I perceive as difficult, I try to pay attention and understand the feelings. What are my feelings trying to tell me? What are they asking me to do? My feelings have helped me realize when I am on the verge of burnout and just need to spend a day lying down and reading a book. They also help me realize when we need a mental health day.
3. It is validating for me to know that other people are struggling.
4. When I’m in the middle of an emotional storm, I avoid sending emails and texts to people outside my inner circle.
5. I have had to shift gears. 2020 is not going the way I expected. I was going to revise my first fantasy novel but it’s just too tough for me right now. So I made The Distance Learning Activity Book For Parents Just Barely Holding On To Their Last Shred Of Sanity. Now I am writing the first draft of a book about a preschool room mom that is fun and playful.

Recording this podcast episode was very helpful for me. I need, again and again, to acknowledge how shitty distance learning. But now, I am ready to embrace a little more enthusiasm and grit for the adventures ahead. Distance Learning suuuuucks sooooo muuuuch but I am going to find ways to have fun and make the most of this experience. Stay tuned!

NaNoWriMo starts tomorrow! If you have not heard about it before, NaNoWriMo is National Novel Writing Month. The goal of NaNoWriMo is to start writing on November 1 and end the month with 50,000 words of a new novel.

This will be my first crack at NaNoWriMo.

It seems a bit insane to try to write 50,000 words of a new novel smack dab in the middle of the special hell that is distance learning. But for me, it also seems a bit insane not to.

Writing energizes me. When I write regularly, I feel like my best self. When I don’t find the time to write, I fade and wilt.

Distance learning has been kicking my ass. Now, more than ever, I need writing to keep my spirits up. That’s why I am trying NaNoWriMo.

I have always wanted to write novels. I actually wrote the first draft of a novel the year before I got pregnant with Pippa. When I was recovering from postpartum depression, I started working on the second draft of that novel. But that work did not feel right. All I wanted to write about was postpartum depression, so finally, I shelved the novel and started working on my memoir.

After I published my memoir in April 2018, I started working on a couple of different novels. I knew I wanted to write fiction, but I had so many ideas, I did not know where to start. Eventually, I settled on an idea I had for a fantasy series. Long story short, I finished the first draft of the first book in that series last May, which felt like a major victory since here in Pasadena, we were in the midst of the Covid-19 shutdown. I worked on a plan for revisions over the summer and felt ready to whip the book into shape.

Then distance learning started.

Working on my fantasy novel and helping my second grader with distance learning are mutually exclusive activities. I do not have the brain power to do both. I wish I could choose the fantasy novel, but life has gone with Option Bat Shit Crazy: The Distance Learning Edition. I kept trying to chip away at my fantasy novel, but I was interrupted by distance learning demands so often, I could have ripped off my eyebrows with frustration. I am used to having at least a couple of uninterrupted hours to write. Getting interrupted every five minutes because my daughter has been kicked off Google Meets AGAIN is suboptimal, to say the least.

Then, my muse gave me the idea for The Distance Learning Activity Book For Parents Just Barely Holding On To Their Last Shred Of Sanity, and that project really did help me get a firmer grip on my waning sanity. I realized that I have to hit the Pause button on my fantasy novel during distance learning, but I still have to keep writing. I just have to work on writing projects that are bit more lighthearted and do not require hours of uninterrupted focus.

I could just start making another snarky activity book. I have a list of at least five dozen ideas and the challenge will be picking which one to do first. I expect I will make several more activity books next year.

But first, I want to try NaNoWriMo.

In addition to my fantasy series, I have always wanted to write a book series about a regular mom’s regular mom life. No magic, no dragons, and no complicated plots that unfold over the course of seven books. 2020 feels like the perfect year to start writing that sort of book.

The working title for my novel is Confessions Of A Reluctant Room Mom. I am so excited to start tomorrow! I was ready to start a couple of days ago, when I uploaded The Distance Learning Activity Book to Amazon and ordered my author proof copy, but that felt like cheating. I want to start tomorrow, on the first day of November and see how quickly I can write a shitty first draft of a novel. I am a recovering perfectionist, so I think NaNoWriMo will be the perfect challenge for me.

On that note, I better start getting ready for our pandemic-friendly Halloween festivities. Good Lord, what a surreal year this has been. Yep, it’s definitely a good year to try to write 50,00 words in a month!

I have not been keeping up with my blogging or podcasting this month because I have been busy on another project: my second book! It’s called The Distance Learning Activity Book For Parents Just Barely Holding On To Their Last Shred Of Sanity and it is on the verge of being published.

There are merit badges:

A multiple choice test:

Of course, the book would not be complete without some Would You Rather…

And I’m really proud of Distance Learning Bingo:

There are ton of other activities, including the distance learning personality quiz, the survey your child’s school does not have the nerve to send, a picture hunt, and word scramble affirmations. Parents get to build their distance learning wardrobe, create their distance learning nickname, and even make a mascot.

I wish I could say that this book offers salvation from the distance learning horror show. It does not. The only thing that will offer salvation from distance learning is THE END OF DISTANCE LEARNING. Unfortunately, my magic powers are not strong enough for that sort of spell, otherwise I would have rescued us all ages ago. But this book does offer a distraction from the torture of distance learning, and also a few laughs, and hopefully, that will help at least a few parents get a firmer grip on their last shred of sanity.

The book will be on sale on Amazon very, very soon! I’ll update this post as soon as it’s available.

I attended Catholic school for eleven and a half years, from about halfway through first grade until the day I graduated from high school in 1997. I have not practiced Catholicism, or any other formal religion, since 1997, but recently, I have realized that I am still carrying around some toxic beliefs from my Catholic school days.

I am ready to detox that shit from my life.

I was very, very nervous about publishing this episode. “Terrified” might be the better word! I know and love a lot of Catholics, and I don’t want them to feel like I am attacking something that is important to them.

But.

I feel called to do this work.

This episode is the beginning of my Catholic school detox. I’m not exactly sure how this will go. I imagine it will involve a lot of journaling and blogging.

I am going to start rereading the Bible, especially the passages that were emphasized by my teachers and the priests. I am going to consider all the prayers, hymns, rituals, and practices. I am going to dig it all up and look at it critically and intentionally. I am going to question how various Bible passages influenced me and then intentionally reject any ideas, stories or beliefs that I deem toxic.

This is scaring the shit out of me.

That’s why I have to do it.

Over the past several years, as a writer and podcaster, I have been rediscovering and reclaiming my voice.

I think we are all born with a unique voice and all our voices are amazing and awesome. We are not meant to be characters in a dystopian novel, all speaking in a monotone in our matching grey uniforms. We are meant to be vibrantly, gloriously, radiantly different.

But for years, I struggled with claiming my own voice. I was deeply affected by a few life experiences, and instead of shrugging those moments off, I internalized them, let them fester, and put a muzzle on my voice.

Those key life moments were:

• During my senior year of high school, my religion class was working on some sort of vocational worksheet. I sat next to my frenemy and said, “Hey, standup comedian. I bet that would be fun.” My frenemy said, in a snide voice I can still hear in my head, “Yeah, but you would have to be funny to do that.” And fuck, that comment was like a gut punch to my stomach. I am funny, in my own way. Not everyone thinks I am funny, and that is okay. We all have our own unique sense of humor. But I have been told, countless times in my life, that I am absolutely hilarious. In high school, I made people laugh all. the. time. But this one remark, from my frenemy, pulverized me. My frenemy said I was not funny, and her one opinion outweighed the other 99 people who laughed at my humor.
• Not long after, during my first weeks as a freshman in college, I was walking to a dormitory with a friend. I was not destined to stay friends with this particular woman. We had just happened to meet during those early tender friendless days, and latched on to each other. What we had was not really a friendship. It was more like we were the friendship equivalent of life vests until we could meet our actual friends. But as we were walking, I said something, and I can’t remember if I said “shit” or “fuck” or both, but this new friend responded, “Can I ask you something? Do you have to curse so much?” I laughed. I thought she was joking. “Does my swearing offend you?” I asked. “Yes,” she said, in a cold judgmental voice. My whole body was flooded with shame. I apologized and endeavored to swear less. I felt like my potty mouth made me a bad person and that I would not make any friends in college if I swore as much as I am inclined to swear.
• And lastly, I took a creative writing class during my freshman spring and the professor did not like me or my writing. He made that abundantly clear in front of my classmates. I wrote quirky, funny stories. He thought they were a waste of time. What did I know? He was the professor. I was the student. I gave up on my dream of taking more creative writing classes and stuck to my History Major.

After those experiences, I started to silence my voice. I wrote an op-ed column for the college newspaper that was quirky, but I agreed to be the op-ed editor because that would look better on my resume. As the editor, I was not allowed to write columns any more. Then, I went to law school and learned how to write sterile, boring legal documents and hostile, humorless letters. In order to write like a proper lawyer, I had to crush my own unique voice.

But during all those years that I muzzled my voice, I could never silence myself completely. There was my blog, Wendy the Cactus, which shared the adventures of a bitchy cactus. Then there was my other blog, The Cranky Pumpkin, where I started writing whatever felt right and authentic to me.

Having postpartum depression actually helped me reclaim my voice. I thought at first that I had to keep my mental illness a secret, but the secrecy was killing me from the inside. I started to tell people about my experiences, and slowly, I realized that I did not care what other people thought. Some were incredibly supportive. Some were not, but I felt good sharing my story no matter what the reception.

I was starting to stop giving so many fucks about the critics. I was becoming more interested in speaking my mind in the way that feels natural to me.

Strangely enough, being the Room Mom for Pippa’s kindergarten class really helped me break away from my self-imposed muzzle. In the beginning of the year, I wrote sterile emails to the parents about upcoming potlucks and field trips. But over time, the emails got a little snarky. Parents told me they liked the snark. And before I knew it, I was writing my emails freely and explosively, and having a good time. Writing emails in my own authentic voice was exhilarating.

The past few weeks, I feel like I have leveled up again and reclaimed even more of my unique voice. I have started making an activity book called The Distance Learning Activity Book For Parents Just Barely Holding On To Their Last Shred of Sanity. It makes me happy and hell yes, I will be publishing it on Amazon as soon as I’m done.

I also have an idea for a novel about a room mom that I am going to start writing in a few weeks during NaNoWriMo. I love the fantasy series I am working on, but that is slow work and feels a bit serious. Right now, with all the insanity of 2020, I need to write in a way that is light-hearted and joyful. I am so excited to work on my room mom novel.

I’m 41 year old now, and I’m just too damn old to worry about the haters. Haters gonna hate. I am going to keep speaking and writing in the way that feels right for me.

This week, on my podcast Adventures With My Forties, I talk about boundaries. Spoiler alert: I am not an expert in having boundaries! Instead, I am an expert in not having healthy boundaries.

I woke up Monday morning and made a decision: I am not going to be the cookie chair this year for Pippa’s Brownie troop. I was the cookie chair last year when she was still a Daisy. It was actually fun. I enjoyed it. I assumed I would be the cookie chair again this year. But it’s 2020. HOLY SHIT.

Monday morning, I texted my decision to our troop leaders. I originally thought I would have to spend at least a week thinking about (translation: agonizing over) this decision. But then, I realized I was just procrastinating telling them because I was worried they would be mad with me, but I can’t be the cookie  chair when it’s going to compromise my mental health during a bat shit crazy year.

As I decided to send the text, I realized I was setting a very healthy boundary. And I also realized that it’s time to talk about boundaries on the show.

I am NOT a boundaries expert.

But I have a lot of experience with NOT having healthy boundaries and with trying to establish better boundaries and not really knowing what the hell I was doing. You could say I am an expert at bumbling my way toward better boundaries.

When it comes to boundaries, I am a work in progress.

I have to be honest. I don’t fully understand my history with boundaries. It’s something I have to think about because I have not thought a lot about boundaries. Does this make any sense? No one ever talked to me about having boundaries. At least, not until I was working with my fourth therapist! Or, maybe people did talk about boundaries but I wasn’t receptive to the information? Maybe I was not at a point in my journey where I was ready to absorb the information?

I am finally ready to get me some healthy AF boundaries.

I think I bounced between two extremes for many years.

On the one hand, I had a fortress built around my heart. I was not comfortable with emotions. I did not want to feel my negative emotions, and I certainly did not want to share those emotions with other people. So as far as emotions were concerned, I had The Wall from Game of Thrones around my heart.

On the other hand, I did not have boundaries. Or, when I forced myself to set a boundary, I felt shit lousy. I did not have a strong sense of self-worth, so whenever I established a boundary, I felt like a bad person. I worried that I was making the other person angry. That I was going to lose the friendship if I said No or cancelled plans or did not make myself fully available to the other person’s needs. The boundaries I managed to establish caused a lot of inner turmoil and anguish.

It shouldn’t be that way. I should not feel tormented every time I allow myself to have a boundary.

When I think about boundaries, I start to think about being a woman in a patriarchy. For thousands of years, it has served men to use women who do not have healthy boundaries. The patriarchy does not encourage boundaries for women! Women are expected to say yes, yes, yes, and give, give, give, give, and serve, serve, serve without asking for anything in return.

I used to feel guilty about having boundaries. Now I am learning to love my boundaries.

Boundaries let me be my true radiant self.

Boundaries allow me to say No and not feel guilty and miserable.

I am allowed to say NO without justifying myself.

I am allowed to say NO without apologizing. (When I apologize unnecessarily, I reinforce the belief that I do not deserve boundaries.)

I’m also allowed to change my mind. Like I just did with being the cookie chair for my daughter’s troop. I was totally going to do it again, but I just can’t anymore. Not after the 2020 I’ve had. So I changed my mind, and I’m not apologizing for it AND I FEEL GOOD ABOUT MY BOUNDARY.

When I feel guilty about enforcing a boundary, that does not mean I need to retreat from the boundary. Instead, I need to examine what internal subconscious beliefs are sending up the guilt. Most of the time, I discover some shitty old belief about my self-worth, or lack thereof.

I am getting better at setting healthy boundaries. Journaling and therapy have helped enormously on this front. So has paying attention and being curious. Again and again, I see in my life that half the battle is noticing a problem. Once I notice that I am not happy with my boundaries, I am already halfway toward having better ones.

I am bumbling my way toward better boundaries, but I know I will get there eventually.

Two and a half years ago, I published my memoir Adventures With Postpartum Depression on Amazon. As part of the publication process, I had to include a blurb about the book to entice potential readers.

This was probably more difficult than writing the actual memoir!

I was so intimidated by the prospect of writing something that promoted my book that I hired someone to do it for me. I filled out a questionnaire, paid about a hundred bucks and received a blurb that was … meh. It did not feel like me. But it had been written by a “professional,” and what did I know about publishing? So I revised the blurb and hoped for the best.

A few months ago, I gathered enough courage to rewrite the blurb. This time, I wrote it myself. Sort of. I looked up the book description for Brooke Shield’s memoir about postpartum depression and wrote a similar blurb. If the publishers for Brooke Shields thought that was the sort of blurb that should accompany a memoir about postpartum depression, who was I to say otherwise?

This is what I wrote:

In this debut memoir, Courtney Novak shares her journey through the darkness of postpartum depression, postpartum anxiety and postpartum obsessive compulsive disorder. She describes her symptoms, including insomnia, guilt, and intrusive thoughts about throwing her baby. Courtney shares candidly how difficult it was for her to realize she had a maternal mood disorder.

There’s two more paragraphs of that crap. It describes my memoir, but it feels like it was written by a stranger.

This morning, as I was journaling, I felt inspired to write a new book blurb. This time, I was not going to hire a “professional” or imitate what someone else had written. I was going to write something that felt natural and authentic.

Here is my new book blurb, which should be live on Amazon later this week:

The title of this book is “Adventures With Postpartum Depression” but it should actually be “Adventures With Postpartum Depression, Anxiety, OCD, Insomnia, Despair, Extreme Guilt, Intrusive Thoughts About Hurting The Baby And Feeling Completely Inept at the Whole Business Of Motherhood.” That title, however, was never going to fit on the book cover unless the author used a really, really, really small font.

There are a lot of excellent books about maternal mood disorders, but this one is different. This one is funny. It is raw, honest, poignant, vulnerable AND laugh out loud, please don’t pee your pants, funny.

Courtney cannot help herself. She tried to write a serious memoir about her experiences with postpartum depression. And to some extent, she succeeded. She is brutally honest about the thoughts she had about throwing her baby and taking her own life. She opens up about her insecurities, shame and guilt. She lets readers eavesdrop on her conversations with her psychologist. But even when she is reflecting on the darkness of her mental illness, Courtney still finds humor and joy.

For anyone suffering from a maternal mood disorder, or any mental illness for that matter, Courtney offers hope and inspiration. Readers will learn how an ordinary mom triumphed over postpartum depression and let the experience transform her into a better, stronger version of herself.  

Oh my goodness, I did not realize just how much the shitty old book blurb was dragging at my soul. I feel so much better!

I love self-care. I believe it is a necessary and vital part of our lives.

BUT: I also worry that self-care gets presented to women as a sort of panacea that will cure all their problems. Feeling down? Buy a scented candle. Feeling unfulfilled and dissatisfied with your life? Take a bubble bath!

This is the dangerous self-care myth: if I practice self-care, I’ll be happy. I’ll feel great. All my problems will go away.

But self-care does not always address deeper soul needs.

I was introduced to the idea of self-care when I was recovering from postpartum depression. My psychiatrist kept nagging me to practice self-care. My loved ones kept urging me to take time for myself. I also read a lot of books about PPD, and those books urged me to practice self-care.

But what the hell did that mean?

At first, I thought of self-care in terms of pedicures and bubble baths. A week after I was discharged from the hospital for psychiatric care, I got a massage. That was relaxing and good but … I felt kind of hollow. So the next day, I got a pedicure. That was also nice and relaxing, but still… I had a hollow feeling.

I was also coloring in the evenings. I had started coloring at the hospital as part of “occupational therapy.” Nathan saw how making art lit me up, so he bought me crayons and coloring books. I had also started journaling again. Slowly, I started to realize that writing and making art helped me feel good. Massages and pedicures were relaxing, but for me, writing and making art were the priority.

I do not want to disparage things like massages and pedicures. I love me a good spa day. In fact, when the pandemic is over, I can’t wait to go to my favorite spa (I hope it is still open!) and get a scrub. Things like bubble baths and spa days definitely count as self-care. It’s just for me, when I only have a little time for self-care, I get more value from taking time to write and make art. For everyone, self-care going to look a little different. You have to do what works for you. Not what works for me, or your sister, or your best friend. YOU.

I think self-care is amazing and important BUT as I was recovering from PPD and reading about self-care, I started to internalize a dangerous message: if I took an hour every week, or twenty minutes every day, just for myself, then I would be fine.

Let’s take a little flashback to my lawyer days, shall we? I graduated from law school in 2004 and practiced law until January 2013. When I was a lawyer, I was MISERABLE. I was never called to be a lawyer. I went to law school because I was terrified of following my calling to be a writer. I worked as a lawyer at big law firms with a big salary because I had this idea that my value depended on how much money I made and how much prestige my job carried.

But hey, when I was a lawyer, I self-cared the shit out of myself. Expensive spa days. Journaling in the morning. I went on trips. Bought myself expensive purses that I didn’t really like. I got facials. I got my hair done. I exercised. I knitted. I did all the self-care! But did that help?

HELL NO.

I was still a miserable lawyer because I was denying my inner call to be a writer and pursuing a career that shredded my soul. I used to tell people that when I got off the elevator at work, I switched into lawyer mode. And when I left, I could switch back to Courtney. This felt a little bad ass. But it was crushing my spirit, and there was no amount of self-care that could make me feel better. I might as well have put a bandaid on an amputated limb.

Self-care is necessary. Relaxation is vital. But self-care has to be done in conjunction with being your authentic self. You cannot avoid your inner divine call by taking a bubble bath. You cannot avoid the work that you are meant to be doing in this lifetime by getting a facial.

This is not easy. We are born with our true inner calling and the work we need to do. But then life piles on and separates us from our call. Society convinces us that we are not good enough, not pretty enough, not thin enough. That we need to fit in, follow the rules, be a good girl, and act like everyone else or we’ll be rejected and cast out from the herd. We are told that we cannot be trusted, that we are not lovable, and that we should be happy with a bubble bath and glass of wine.

We have been told that a scented candle is enough to cancel out the fact that our spirits have been crushed.

Let me tell you about scented candles. When I was a miserable lawyer, I bought myself a $40 candle. It did not make me feel good about myself. It just made me feel like an idiot for buying a $40 candle BECAUSE I DON’T EVEN LIKE SCENTED CANDLES!

I can’t tell you what your inner call is. I can’t tell you what work you are meant to do in this lifetime. I can’t tell you who your authentic self is. But I can tell you this: your inner call is worthy; your authentic self is awesome; your work and your voice and your ideas are important.

If you are struggling to figure out what your divine call is, I suggest thinking about your younger self. What did you feel called to do as a kid? What juiced you up? What did you feel compelled to do? What did you love to do?I read somewhere to think of yourself when you were twelve years old, but I prefer thinking of myself as even younger. Because I don’t know about you, but by the time I was twelve, I was already fairly messed up by society and other peoples’ expectations and opinions.

The idea of self-care as a panacea for all ills is dangerous to women. It makes us think that all we need to do to have a happy life is get pedicures and maybe color for fifteen minutes at the end of the day. The self-care myth is telling us to drown our inner call with a bubble bath.

Self-care is necessary and vital and wonderful. But if your soul feels crushed because you are smothering your inner divine call, self-care is not going to fix that. The self-care myth perpetuates the idea that you just need fifteen minutes a day to feel like yourself, but you deserve to feel like your best self all day, every day. That doesn’t mean you won’t sometimes feel uncomfortable or sad or angry. That’s life. But you can feel uncomfortable or sad or angry and still feel like yourself. That is what you deserve. You deserve to practice self-care AND feel like your best damn self in all aspects of your life.