We hear it all the time. A catchphrase, casually doled out to people who are juggling many responsibilities, often including taking care of the needs of others, who may appear to have little left for themselves. What do we really mean when we say it? Are we actually being helpful?
As a caregiver to both my partner and an elderly Buddhist nun, I’ve certainly experienced caregiver burnout. Though I’m not there right now, there have been times that I’ve been in crisis mode, due to the overwhelming health issues that my paraplegic boyfriend has experienced. Namely, severe sepsis a couple times, as a result of infected pressure wounds. You can read all about that in some of my previous blog posts, including all the gory details that influenced some of my artwork at that time. Point being, based on my own experience, and the experiences I’ve read from others in the online caregiver support groups that I’m part of, when we are in crisis mode – meaning when we are struggling to balance the bare minimum necessary for survival with the exceedingly stressful burdens of trying to keep someone else alive and safe, while navigating an incredibly frustrating healthcare system – hearing that can feel like a gut punch. Yes, we do need to take care of ourselves. We know this. But when we are doing our best to do that one next thing in front of us while keeping a tally of the priority level of everything else we need to do for our own/our partner’s survival, hearing this can feel like one more thing we’re being told that we’re not doing right. What are we supposed to stop doing so that we can take a shower/meditate/have a massage/whatever?
This well-intentioned (and true) phrase can feel like an empty platitude when we have nothing in our tanks. Again, based on my own experience from being in this space, and based on what I’ve heard from others in a similar space, the thing that would be more helpful is to offer something concrete. Even something tiny. “Can I go grocery shopping for you?” or “Can I sit with your loved one for an hour so you can go shopping?” “What can I do to help?” can be helpful, but sometimes our brain is too fried for us to even have any idea how to answer that. Simple, small suggestions of how to help can be life-changing in times like these. Even, “Can I give you a hug?” That helps. A lot. We don’t need answers. Sometimes there are none. Just love.
“Don’t Forget to Take Care of Yourself” is the title of one of my most recently completed pieces of art, one that I started about five years ago, after emerging from this aforementioned “crisis mode.” I wanted to make a dress that was sort of a caregiver’s diary. I had no idea how I would do this. I began by painting the edges of pages torn from a daily meditation book to look like blood and inserting them into discarded ABD bandage packaging, along with a dried rose petal, and sewing the edges to be reminiscent of stitches. I then sewed those onto the bottom of a slip, sent to me by an old art school friend in Philly who was giving me moral support with this project. I had no idea what I was doing. So it sat. I would work on it sporadically over the years, doing the meditative work of sewing, making rosettes out of gauze, making origami butterflies and roses out of bandage packaging, and brainstorming about how to display it. On a wall? On a dress form? Hanging from the ceiling? I really had no idea. Or I had too many ideas.
One thing I’ve found recently, after doing two of my most ambitious projects to date – this one, and a snakebone rosary altar called “Ode to a Snake” (below) – is that doing large projects is mentally challenging. You really have to put in many hours of grunt work, going on blind faith that the time and effort put in will pay off. You can’t see how it will all come together while you’re doing it, as there are too many bits and bobs and things in motion. And it’s not together…until it is! Keeping the faith in the work is uncomfortable, at times.
Anyway, this piece was important to me. Very personal. I knew I needed to finish it, one way or another, one day. I had no idea when or how or what that would look like, but it remained percolating for years. Using the body in art, or as a foundation for art, feels like getting back to my art school jewerly/metalsmithing roots. There’s comfort in that. I’ve always enjoyed working that way. In a world that usually defines “art” as a painting that you can hang on a wall, I’ve often questioned where my work fits in. Which is actually ok by me, but can sometimes feel isolating. In a world where “success” is usually defined by how much one has sold, creating a large piece that, for all intents and purposes, has much less likelihood of selling quickly than a small, flat, painting, I’ve had to re-evaluate what success means to me. In this case, holding onto that thread of inspiration for several years, through a move and tremendous emotional upheaval, and completing this project in a way that I’m incredibly happy with, IS success. I absolutely love it. It has birthed, and that’s a true relief.
As you can see, I decided to go for the dress form. Since it was off the dress form when I sewed the bandage packages on the bottom, I had to force it back on. Now that it was sewn, there was no give, so it ripped. That’s ok. It never has to come off again, so I just covered the ripped spot with gauze and ribbon and bandage package roses. I created a heart and wings out of metal, using aluminum baking sheets and drawing on them. I used gold ribbon from the candy boxes my stepmother sends me at holidays. I used the cardboard tubes from the rolls and rolls of tape we’ve gone through taping up Tony’s wounds. I used a pig skull given to me by the chef at the restaurant I used to work at in Oakland, when his friend brought in a freshly slaughtered pig to put on the menu. I cleaned it, and it sat for years, waiting for its assignment. A vintage linen tablecloth, spattered with blood red paint, added just the right amount of drape for the bottom.
Colleena (La Matadora Gallery owner) and I had talked about doing a show of art that incorporates words/writing. We decided to do this as a group show, opening February 8, 2025. That was my push to finish the piece. That phrase (Don’t Forget to Take Care of Yourself) kept going through my mind as I worked. It seemed like a fitting title. I took a gold paint pen and wrote those words across the plastic coating of the bandage packages covering the skirt of the dress. I wrote it on the velvet ribbon I used as a choker, as well. A syringe tiara is adorned with dried roses. Two strings of bandage paper butterflies hang from the syringes. There is a ghostly hollow feeling to the piece, juxtaposed with a shimmering hint of nirvana. Stark, hospital white and bones, stained with blood, embellished with gold. A caregiver, in all her glory.
Back to the taking care of yourself thing. It can be difficult. It can be hard to relax. When I try to rest, my head will not turn off. I’m reminded of all the things I’m not doing. So I get up and do more. And I’m wearing myself out. I know this. But I can’t stop.
I have an autoimmune thyroid disorder, among other things, which has resulted in what is called a multinodular goiter. One side has many small nodules, while the other has a single, larger nodule, which apparently is the one that needs to be monitored. I had a biopsy a couple years ago which came back benign. It is recommended that I get annual ultrasounds to make sure all is well. I got my most recent one on Jan 22. I get a call one week later saying that my results are in and that my doctor wants to go over them with me as soon as possible, so can we make an appointment for next week. Which means it’s probably not great news, but it also means I won’t know until next week. Which means I better get busy with something else so I don’t think. (I’ve finished the big piece, so I also need to save myself from the possibility of trying to keep going with it!) I decide to make three small pieces for the show, which we are hanging the following week. Not much time, but I pull it off.
“Take Care of Your Heart,” “Take Care of Your Mind,” and “Take Care of Your Body.” Three oval frames that I covered in 23 karat gold leaf with a little milagro in the center of each, featuring a heart, a head, and a leg. The words are written in gold paint pen on coated salvaged metal. Where did this come from? “Self-care” as an internet buzzword has never been my thing. Too hashtag-y. Trending. But seriously, why do I feel put off by the notion of self-care? Is there something to this?
I finish the pieces and talk to my doctor. My nodule has reduced slightly in size, but it has gone from cystic to completely solid, which apparently is a bad thing. I need a biopsy. It is rated category 5, which I’ve read means about an 80% likelihood of cancer. Thyroid cancer is generally very treatable, but no one wants to have cancer. I’m post-menopausal (that’s a whole other thing….and it’s a big one) for a couple years, and right before the opening of the show, I get the thing I thought I was done with. And BAD cramps. I’ve had spells of dizziness, and I actually fell on the kitchen floor. My body feels like it’s going haywire. I need to slow down. Like….for real this time. Lean into the rest. No guilt. It’s serious. Don’t forget to take care of yourself. The words have meaning. Sometimes, life or death. Or at least close.
As I write this, I’ve got about 8 hours before I go in for my biopsy. My neck and ear hurt, I’m anxious, and I just want to know what’s next. I’ll be taking it easy for the next couple days, and then back to La Matadora on Saturday for the final weekend of this fantastic show called “Blah Blah Blah,” which features the work of over 20 artists, culminating with an artist talk on Sunday, March 2 at 3pm. If you are reading this before then, please join us if you’d like!
Thanks for reading, and please – don’t forget to take care of yourself!! And if you can’t, try to ask for help. I know it’s hard, but it’s sometimes lifechanging.
Blah Blah Blah show artist list:
Aaron Sheppard • Alea Bone • Beth Allen • Bobby Furst • Clair Case • Coco Hall • Colleena Hake • Damien Gossett • Dianne Bennett • Exene Cervenka • Frau Sakra • Jill Emery • Jina Imani • Joanna Szachowska • Judy Lichtman • Kate McCabe • Laura Bogner • Manuel Abril • Maryam Ghaffari • Steffi Sutton • Teresa Watson • Tony Buhagiar • Wendy Lee Gadzuk
