My 2007 Honda Accord's leather driver's seat is cracking. I can count on one hand how many times I've had the leather treated and the car detailed since I bought it new in 2007.
The used yellow Huffy girl's bike I got when I was six, with too-high handlebars and a too-wide banana seat with ripped pleather? I adored it. I cared for it. I cherished it. I even made sure that the banana seat's condition didn't deteriorate further.
The difference? Gratitude.
When I got that Huffy bike, it didn't matter to me that it was used. It was new to me. And it represented freedom. It meant that I could travel as far as my legs could pump those pedals. It meant that I didn't have to ride on the handlebars or the back of other people's bikes (and risk getting injured) to know the joys of riding a bike and feeling the wind in my face. It meant that I didn't have to outrun anyone who meant me harm -- I could get on my bike and ride off. I was grateful for that bike.
The 2007 Honda Accord? Not so much. I never intended to buy it. I only bought it because I promised my paid off 1998 Honda Accord to a family member who was in need of a car at the time that I made the promise. I hated getting a new car payment when I already had a car that was paid off. Although I liked the look of my 2007 Accord better than that of my 1998 Accord, I wasn't grateful for my 2007 Accord when I bought it. I was paying off a karmic debt, a promise unwisely made. Although I get it serviced regularly, I haven't regularly done the things for it that would express gratitude -- car washes, detailing, etc. That's why the leather driver's seat is cracking. The leather seats in my 1998 Accord never did. The difference? Again, gratitude. I maintained that car better, inside and out, because I was more grateful for it.
I have come to realize that maintenance, including self-maintenance, is an expression of gratitude for whatever it is you are maintaining. I know this because of the bald spot on the back of my head.
When I last made one of my very infrequent appointments to get a relaxer on my hair (I hate getting relaxers because they irritate my eczema -- that's another blog entry for another day), my stylist told me, "You have a bald spot on the back of your head." Lo and behold, she held up a mirror, and there was a silver-dollar sized bald spot -- I'm not talking little hair, I'm talking bald as a baby's butt -- on the back of my head. "You need to see a dermatologist," she said.
I snapped a picture of the bald spot, sent it to my doctor, and she came back with a diagnosis: Alopecia Areata. Not traction alopecia from pulling your hair back too tight. An autoimmune hair loss treatable with topical steroids and time, not unlike the autoimmune disease that is eczema. Autoimmune diseases can be triggered by stress. I hadn't been maintaining myself, wasn't taking care to have MENS in my life -- Meditation, Exericse, Nutrition, and Sleep -- and the lack of self-care, coupled with stress, was expressing itself in my skin and hair.
My hair has long been a walking embodiment of a lack of gratitude. All of my life I've had long, and usually thick, hair. It grows easily and quickly. Men dig it when it's styled. I think my husband married me in part because of it. But I've never been particularly grateful for my long hair. I've viewed it as just another obstacle to getting to work on time. Sadly enough, it looks that way, forever sanctioned to a pony tail or bun and rough around the non-relaxed edges. I've had people tell me that I look like a totally different person with my hair down and styled. I have to admit that my neglect of my hair is an extension of my neglect for my body. I wash it, dry it, pull it back, and get on with it.
Sadly enough, since I didn't get a body like Halle Berry, I also long demonstrated the same lack of gratitude for my body, viewing it as nothing more than a house for what I considered my most important asset -- my brain. As long as my mind was working, I didn't care what I put in or did for my body. My mind, not my body, was THE asset.
I felt that way until my mother-in-law succumbed to cancer. She was 89 years old and in complete control of her mental faculties, but her body failed her. I realized that if your body fails you, it doesn't matter how well your mind is working. Then I started coming across research showing that exercise is THE most important factor in maintaining cognitive ability into old age. My body wasn't just a house for my brain. They were interdependent. To be grateful for my mind, I had to be grateful for my body and care for them both equally.
Additionally, in another show of lack of gratitude, I've let house maintenance slip, too. My garage is filled to the rafters with dozens of plastic containers filled with stuff I've been dragging from place to place over my adult life without purging. My wood floors haven't been polished in a minute. I've got weeds on the side of my house (although the gardener was supposed to take care of that). As grateful as I am for my humble abode, it doesn't show through maintenance.
Long story short, instead of looking at caring for ourselves, others, and the things given to us or earned as chores, to-do list items, or, even worse, tasks that can be overlooked, what if we viewed caring for ourselves, others, and the things we have as an expression of gratitude? Because, really, that's what maintenance really is -- an expression of gratitude for what we are maintaining.
Realizing this has changed my perspective. I thought of those things I need for basic self-maintenance, and I came up with the acronym MENS -- Meditation, Exercise, Nutrition, and Sleep -- to remind me to keep MENS in my life. For some, it might be PENS -- Prayer, Exercise, Nutrition, and Sleep. I've also come to the conclusion that the things that I used to do or had done for myself on the regular that I later came to see as frivolous -- massages, mani-pedis, standing hair appointments, solo travel/writing retreats, entire days spent reading on the sofa, and mid-afternoon naps -- are, in fact, a form of self-maintenance for me and gratitude for this one body, one mind, one spirit, and one life I have in this physical realm. Self-maintenance isn't just maintaining your physical self; it's maintaining your mental and spiritual self and expressing gratitude for them all in the process. I realized that, for me, it starts with trying to keep MENS in my life. They are the foundation, the beginning, for my self-maintenance.
You'll be surprised at how good expressing gratitude through maintenance, including self-maintenance, will make you feel. Maintenance, including self-maintenance, is not an undeserved luxury. It is a necessity for wellness and the full enjoyment of this one life you have. I hope you, too, will keep MENS (or PENS) in your life as the foundation of your self-maintenance.
Now, excuse me while I work on my garage, my hair, and my car's driver's seat, for which I'm grateful.
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