Getting Real with Kira Hazledine

I’m the worst at self-care. I have always been the person that gives to others, and I try to be thankful that I’m not as much of a “people-pleaser” anymore. Not that I don’t like being a nice person, because I don’t aim to be an asshole. It just gets complicated, because I love other’s happiness more than my own. But honestly, it’s exhausting. Moms are told that you can’t pour out of a glass that’s empty, but I’ve gotten really good at extending those last few drops before refilling.

My daughter comes first.

Because, duh. I had a child. I was well-aware that I would be sacrificing, although do you really know what that looks like until you’re a parent? It’s a rough transition! But I wouldn’t change a single thing. Despite long days and long nights and a toddler that bites when she’s mad at me, I freaking love this child. I love being a mom.

My husband comes second.

We could enter the argument of whether spouse or children should come first blah blah blah. This is not where we are at right now. I love and cherish my husband, and honestly, he’s told me that he would feed me to alligators to save our daughter. I think we are on the same page. Anyhoo.

The only thing I love more than seeing my daughter happy is seeing my husband happy. I am always his cheerleader for anything he wants to pursue, and I am right there next to him. I mean, I begged the man to move to America from England with promises that my pregnant self would support us and make it work. I promised that I would work hard so that he could build a life here, too. Mission accomplished, my friends. A woman knows how to get stuff done.

I come third… Last?

Through no one’s fault but my own, I come last. My husband begs me to go somewhere, anywhere. To take time with friends. To do some self-care something. He’s volunteered to quit everything he’s doing so I can have a chance to be involved with something but I can’t even think of anything I would do. So I nod my head and say of course, I will think about it. But I don’t make plans. And other times I decline any self-care, insisting I’m fine. I don’t need a break from the toddler that’s been wrapped around my leg for three straight weeks. And the craziest part is that I believe myself.

My inner voice is a liar.

I was never great at prioritizing my own needs, but a lengthy abusive relationship squashed any possibility of me actually giving a crap about taking care of myself. Taking care of myself consisted of survival then, so based on today’s standards of a loving family, I’m doing awesome! Who needs self-care when someone loves you and treats you like an equal partner? Shouldn’t that be enough?

It’s not.

You are the only one that can truly take care of yourself. The love of others around you is so important, but only you can address your passions and your desires. No one can love you enough to live your life for you. So, I’m trying really hard. I’m trying to live beyond my daughter and husband. I’m trying to enjoy their passions and still feel free to enjoy mine. And somehow not feel guilty in all that. I have to remind myself that I’m not taking away from anyone else by taking care of myself.

It’s ok for moms to be selfish. It’s necessary for moms to be selfish sometimes. You were a person before you were a mom. You were a person before you met your significant other. Continue to be someone. And I’ll be there trying so hard every day, right with you.