Knowing Better Doesn’t Always Mean Doing Better

Sep 23

Walking shoes, a rolled exercise mat, books, a journal, and skin care products sit beside a cozy recliner in warm morning light.

I know exercise is good for me.

I know I should move my body more, stretch regularly, get enough rest, and make time for the kind of self care that requires more intention than sitting down with a book.

None of this is new information.

The problem has never been that I don’t know better.

The problem is that knowing something and consistently doing it are two very different things.

I Stay in My Lane at Work

I work in healthcare, so it would be easy to assume this is a story about a medical professional who gives patients advice and then goes home and ignores all of it herself.

That really isn’t the case.

I’m a respiratory therapist, and I stay in my lane. The advice I give at work is respiratory advice.

I’m also asthmatic, so I’m not only a respiratory therapist. I’m a respiratory patient too.

I follow the same advice I give.

I’m compliant with my respiratory medications, including my inhalers, nebulizer treatments, and pills. I don’t smoke and never have. I know my allergy and asthma triggers, and I do my best to avoid them.

I also know when what I’m doing at home isn’t enough and it’s time to see a physician because I need something more.

When it comes to my respiratory health, I practice what I teach.

I understand the importance of following a treatment plan because I’ve seen what can happen when respiratory problems aren’t controlled. I also know what it feels like to be the person who needs the medication and not only the person administering it.

This isn’t about ignoring my own medical advice.

It’s about the parts of caring for myself that don’t come with a prescription, a treatment schedule, or a clear sign that it’s time to act.

What I Mean When I Say Self Care

I do make time for some things I enjoy.

I read. I junk journal. I can sit down with paper, scissors, glue, and whatever little scraps I’ve saved and lose track of time for a while.

Those things bring me joy, and they absolutely have value.

But when I say I’m bad at self care, I mean the things I know my body needs that don’t always feel enjoyable in the moment.

I mean stretching when I’m stiff.

I mean doing my skin care routine when I’d rather crawl into bed.

I mean choosing to rest without feeling like I should be accomplishing something.

I mean getting up and walking or doing some kind of cardio at home when the recliner and my phone are right there.

Those are the things that become easy to postpone.

I’ll do them tomorrow.

I’ll start on my next stretch of days off.

I’ll wait until I have more energy.

I’ll begin when life settles down.

Of course, life rarely settles down long enough to send a formal announcement that now would be a convenient time to take care of myself.

The Barriers Are Real

Sometimes I’m exhausted.

Sometimes caregiving takes up the energy I might have used for myself.

Sometimes there are appointments, errands, household responsibilities, or other things that need my attention.

Sometimes there’s enough time, but I don’t have the motivation.

And sometimes I simply don’t feel like doing it.

All of those things can get in the way of regular exercise and self care.

The trouble begins when I stop seeing them as barriers and start treating them like evidence of a character flaw.

If I don’t exercise, I tell myself I’m lazy.

If I start something and don’t stick with it, I tell myself I’m not committed.

I don’t just acknowledge that I didn’t do the thing. I turn it into a judgment about who I am.

That doesn’t motivate me.

It only gives me one more reason to feel bad.

I Know How to Give Grace

If one of my family members or friends told me they were struggling to exercise because they were tired, overwhelmed, busy, or caring for someone else, I wouldn’t immediately call them lazy.

I wouldn’t question their character or tell them they simply weren’t committed enough.

I’d understand.

I’d remind them that they have a lot going on. I’d tell them that doing something small still counts. I’d encourage them without making them feel worse about themselves.

I know how to give grace.

I just don’t always give it to myself.

Somehow, I believe everyone else deserves patience while I should be able to push through whatever is getting in my way.

That extra pressure doesn’t help. I’m already self critical. I don’t need to turn taking care of myself into another test I’m failing.

Maybe It Doesn’t Have to Be All or Nothing

When I picture exercise, I’m not imagining anything extreme.

I’d like to walk more or do some form of cardio at home. I’d like to stretch regularly and feel as though I’m doing something good for the body that carries me through work, caregiving, family life, and everything else.

That sounds reasonable.

But even a reasonable goal can become overwhelming when I decide it only counts if I do it perfectly and consistently.

A ten minute walk starts feeling pointless because it isn’t thirty minutes.

Stretching once doesn’t seem worth celebrating because I didn’t do it every day.

One night of choosing rest doesn’t feel meaningful because I know I’ll probably stay up too late another night.

I have a habit of moving the finish line until whatever I did is no longer enough.

Maybe the answer isn’t another strict plan or a bigger promise to myself.

Maybe it begins with letting something small count.

I Still Want to Do Better

Giving myself grace doesn’t mean I’m giving up.

I still want to exercise more. I still want to stretch, rest, care for my skin, and make choices that support my health.

I know better, and I do want to do better.

I just don’t want shame to be the thing driving me.

Calling myself lazy has never once made me excited to get off the couch. Telling myself I’m not committed hasn’t created more time, energy, or motivation.

It has only made self care feel like punishment.

Maybe I don’t need more criticism.

Maybe I need to speak to myself the way I’d speak to someone I love.

I’d tell her to start small.

I’d tell her that ten minutes still counts.

I’d remind her that exhaustion isn’t laziness and struggling doesn’t mean she doesn’t care.

I’d tell her she deserves the same patience she gives everyone else.

I’m very good at knowing better.

Now I need to get better at giving myself some grace while I’m trying to do better.

With Love and Grace from Mabank,

Brandy