A First-Gen Guide to Self-Care

I’m at a strange point right now because in my adult life I have been met with three bouts of extreme burnout and I am living one of those moments right now; at the same time I am starting a consulting firm/ looking for stable income/ and starting something that has been in my heart for a while creating a community of Latina public health professionals. It is a lot all at once. I came to the understanding that the toxic work environment I was in was getting increasingly too much for me to deal with. As a co-worker mentioned to me, this phrase “couch-rot” was becoming very real for me, as well as not cooking my meals and not doing the things I love, such as writing and morning walks. I just felt as though if I could get through it, I would end up in a better place. Like if I just worked harder, like I had seen so many Latinas in my life do, it would all just click. But I couldn’t; I just couldn’t do it anymore. 

Recognizing the burnout 

Recognizing burnout in a cultural context is a complex struggle. Caught between my Latinidad and a country that doesn't fully embrace it, I often feel the need to prove myself, even when I know my worth. This struggle is the first step in learning to care for yourself. We don’t always talk about this; for many of us, rest isn’t something we do or are taught to do, even though we recognize its importance. I grew up in a household where the hustle was real; my parents worked extremely hard. Even then, moments of rest were rare; the phrase 'if you don’t have anything to do, ponte a limpiar' is familiar and ingrained in us. If this resonates with you, know you are not alone. 

Recognizing burnout can be a self-exploratory process, and from what I've learned, it doesn’t have to conflict with my culture; it can even coincide with it. It can be a journey of self-discovery and breaking down narratives such as 'we are lazy,' 'we should be thankful for the amount of work we have,' or 'we must always be doing something.' This is enlightening, and from what I've discovered, it makes me more relatable when I share these narratives with other first-gens. It has also given me a space for healing and the ability to disentangle myself from these harmful narratives, allowing me to show up for my community with greater transparency and as a more effective advocate. 

First-Gen Self-care May Look Different 

I was standing in front of my oven; over the weekend, I had hit the jackpot by going outside of DC and finding a farmers' market and an Asian grocery store that had a lot of Mexican staples. I thoroughly enjoyed picking fresh poblano, jalapeno, and habanero peppers, knowing that for the first time in years, I could make my traditional cultural foods. As I stood in front of my stove, preparing to roast chilies (something I hadn't done in over five years), it occurred to me that this was a form of self-care for me. Being able to eat my cultural foods and even thinking about sharing meals with others filled my soul. 

It may not be bubble baths and face masks, but being able to connect to my roots has an enormous impact on my well-being. 

Being Between Two Worlds 

I spoke to my therapist about this; luckily, I was able to find a therapist who understood my challenges, being first gen, a fellow Latina. I shared with her that I consistently felt as though I was between two worlds; her answer to me was, “That is because you are and you will always be.” That phrase was freeing because I felt validated for the first time; someone saw me, someone understood the struggle of being here and there. 

Understanding that you may find yourself in a tug-of-war is a powerful realization. It also makes self-care less about the narrative of self-care and more about understanding that I have to define it for myself. I revel in being creative; cooking serves as an outlet for me, fulfilling a dual purpose: connecting with my roots and escaping the endless shifts in policy and public health. Self-care can also involve other activities, such as lighting a candle, taking the time to connect with my mom, burning palo santo, cleansing my space, creating an altar for Dia de Muertos, sharing food, or discussing my culture with my friends. When I understood this and gave myself permission for this to be ok, I opened myself up to a new understanding of myself, and I understood why things like standing in front of a stove for hours so everyone could have dinner were important to the women who came before me. Understanding this opened me up to being freer as a first-gen and as a Latina.