This is me. I was about three years old, at my grandparent’s holiday cottage near Maldon. I needed to be looked after really well. Usually my Mummy did that, but for a little while she trusted my Granny and Grandpa to do it just as well. I needed to be kept safe. fed, nurtured, cared for in almost every way.
As I grew older, I needed less and less care. I began to learn to choose my own clothes (well, I am still working on getting that right!), to know what and how much to eat and eventually to get myself from one place to another, choose where to live and with whom. All the grown up stuff.
I didn’t need parents or grandparents to look after me any more.
Not because I didn’t need looking after.
Definitely not that.
But because I had learned to look after myself.
Learning, gradually, day by day and year by year, to do things for myself didn’t mean I no longer needed to be cared for, kept safe, nurtured, put first. It just meant that instead of others doing the caring, I could do it all by myself. I could take care of myself in just the same way that my older relatives used to take care of me.
I could provide the best food, safe surroundings, education, entertainment, medical care, all the necessities for radiant health and happiness.
And my question this weekend, for you, me, for all of us, is this:
Do we care for ourselves as well as we were cared for when we were little? If not, why not? We are no less valuable, important and deserving than when we were innocent, dependent children. We need and deserve the best care we can get. We owe it to ourselves.
