I stepped foot outside the airport, and my skin was immediately warmed by the California sun. Each ray filled my depleted soul, and each breath of air centered me. I looked around at this new scenery, vastly different than the Indiana landscape that I had looked at for the past 29 years, and could finally sense my own heartbeat, beating in sync with no one else. It was my own; I felt alive. I was then able to mutter the phrase that had been the catalyst in me becoming the person I was beginning to love yet was the one that for so long had seemed inherently wrong even to feel let alone say.
"What do you want to do today, Erin?"
For the life of me, I can't begin to rationalize why for so long that question felt as selfish and narcissistic as it did. I had positioned myself firmly in the selfless sector, and I defined the one qualification for this group as always putting myself last, so I didn't have time to ask myself what I wanted. My hand would be forever extended to others but never towards myself. My needs, dreams, and desires were relegated to the bottom of the list. I sadly saw this as a badge of honor, each altruistic act adding another patch to my vest. By the time I reached the Eagle Scout equivalent to selflessness, I felt the exact opposite as what I had imagined. I was filled with nothing but resentment and bone-aching exhaustion, and I found myself as far away from my dreams as I could be because I never entered open doors due to the shackles of responsibilities.
"What do you want to do today, Erin?"
I let that question sink in as I made my way down Hollywood Boulevard. Still new and a bit shaky to this new self-care movement, I traveled to California alone as to be sure that every decision, every task, and every choice was completely for me. What my heart wanted and needed would be at the top of my to-do list. If I wanted to stop and look in a shop, that's exactly what I would do. If I wanted to sit a minute at a Starbucks and enjoy the scenery, I would. I would eat where I wanted. I would travel down streets that looked appealing to me, not worrying if I was putting a kink in someone else's agenda. It was a day that had only my fingerprint on it, and I loved every second.
My head hit the pillow that night, and I grabbed my phone to survey the damage. What would this outward and defiant act of self-care do to the world I knew and loved? The answer shocked me. Nothing. No one was hurt. No one needed me to the point of being unable to physically and emotionally wait until my return home. My family and friends even still loved me. Most importantly though, I loved me. I could feel my heart shout, "Thank you," to which I replied, "You're welcome. I'm sorry it took so long."
I woke up early the next morning and looked out the window to see the sun peaking over the California hills. I felt an overwhelming sense of self-compassion and pride in myself, which was such a foreign feeling. Even being here was a big step. I came for what could be deemed as purely selfish reasons. I was in California just for an eight hour event put on by my hero Elizabeth Gilbert and Rob Bell. It served no purpose other than to invigorate my soul. I would only be in California for a little over a day, which fueled fodder for those who were questioning my push back of the masochistically selfless sector, but I refused to let those voices ring louder than my own. Again, I let my heart speak, and it gave me the new welcomed phrase.
"What do you want to do today, Erin?"
I want taking care of myself to be seen as essential and not egotistical. I can take care of others much better when I am in a place of compassion rather than resentment. Constantly putting others before me should feel less like a way to measure integrity and more like a trigger for self-loathing and exhaustion. It seemed irrefutable that I couldn't fully love or help others if I didn't first do that for myself. I couldn't argue how contented I now felt. For this day, I let that question steer all my decisions, and I would work to carve out pockets of time where I could ask myself that from now on. I would undoubtedly step in and help others when it was needed, but I would no longer let that be at the expense of myself.
"What do you want to do today, Erin?"
I swung open the door of my hotel and walked out into a deliciously beautiful day. I didn't exactly know what I wanted to do, but for once, I would let myself be guided by the principle that it was ok to follow the answer.