Learning the Hard Way: Why Taking Care of You Matters

Let me be honest—taking care of myself has never come naturally. As a single parent, as someone who's used to carrying the weight of others, I’ve always put myself last. Not intentionally, not out of pride, but out of habit. Out of survival. Out of being the one everyone leans on. Maybe it’s because I’m an empath. Maybe it’s how I was raised. I can’t pinpoint the why—I just know that it’s been my way for as long as I can remember.

But in the summer of 2024, I learned a hard and humbling lesson.

I got bitten by a poisonous spider. I ignored it for months. I tried to brush it off, downplay it. That’s what I do—stick my head in the sand and pretend things aren’t happening. I tried natural remedies, hoping it would just heal itself. It didn’t. It got worse. By the time I made it back to my home area in Virginia/North Carolina, I had a serious infection—cellulitis—and I was dangerously close to losing the lower part of my leg.

That was my wake-up call.

Suddenly, I was forced to face what I’d been avoiding. And like most things in life, I didn’t really kick into gear until I had no choice. The truth was: I take care of everyone around me—but not myself. That bite became a metaphor for years of neglecting my own well-being.

And here’s the truth that many won’t say out loud: Sometimes, the anything above the basics feel impossible. You’re surviving. You’re managing your kids, the bills, the next meal, the plans that change on a dime. You’re holding up the world for others, and the last thing on your mind is whether a bite is going to become bad. You pray the little things just fix themselves because the big things already feel so heavy. And sometimes, honestly, you just don’t have the bandwidth.

We kept traveling during this whole ordeal. My boys were doing fine—we went to museums, explored state parks, made new friends, they themselves went to the vet and the doctors offices. I pretended like everything was normal. Until it wasn’t. In North Carolina, the pain got so bad I could barely walk. I remember dragging myself through a veterans museum, each step feeling like fire, and trying to hide my limp from the kids.

I finally went to urgent care. The first provider I saw looked at me and said, "You're fat." That, right there, is one of the many reasons people—especially women, especially single parents—avoid medical care. We get judged. We get dismissed. But I didn’t stop there.

I went to the ER, where I was finally treated like a human being. The nurse looked at me, saw past the weight, and said, "We’ve got you." She was kind, honest, and real. She acknowledged the weight, yes, but with compassion and encouragement. For the first time in a long time, I felt seen. Not judged. Just seen.

And I broke. I cried. I cried for all the years I didn’t cry. I cried because someone cared. I cried because I never give myself permission to feel. I cried because I realized how close I came to real danger—because I was too busy being strong.

That was a turning point.

Months later, I’m healed. The infection is gone. I feel healthier—physically, mentally, emotionally. I can look in the mirror again and say, “You’re beautiful. You matter. You deserve this.”

To My Fellow Single Parents, Empaths, Caretakers—This is for You:

So many of us are out here running on fumes. Putting our kids, our work, our relationships, and even strangers above ourselves. We think that makes us strong. And it does. But strength without self-care leads to burnout, sickness, and collapse.

We live in a society that pressures us to keep going. To hustle. To pretend everything’s fine. And we carry that pressure in our bodies. We smile through the pain. We keep pushing forward.

But let me tell you this: it’s not selfish to take care of yourself. It’s necessary.

Whether it’s a spider bite or mental burnout or emotional fatigue—you deserve attention, healing, and compassion. From others, yes, but especially from yourself.

And yes, it’s okay to cry in an ER. It’s okay to not be okay. It’s okay to need help.

What I’ve Learned:

1. Listen to your body. That “small thing” you’re ignoring might be bigger than you think.

2. Empathy should include yourself. You deserve the same care you give others.

3. Not all doctors are the same. Don’t let one bad experience keep you from the help you need.

4. Cry when you need to. It’s not weakness—it’s healing.

5. Healing is not just physical. Taking care of your mental and emotional health is just as vital.

6. You’re not lazy for struggling with basics. You’re doing your best—and that counts.

To anyone reading this: check in with yourself today. Take a moment. Take a breath. Take care of that thing you’ve been putting off. You’re not just allowed to matter—you do matter.

Your health is the foundation of the life you’re building—for yourself, for your kids, and for everyone who loves you.