The first time I heard about self-nurture I was 38 years old and pregnant with my third son. I was majorly stressed out and a mentor suggested I add in some self-care to my day. “Huh?” was my response. Didn’t know. Can you imagine? But to be a good mom I needed to chill, so I took the advice. I’m still learning, but I’m getting better at it.

I can get to the doctor when I need to, make healthy eating and enough sleep a priority, and even sit down to relax from time to time. I take a hot bath every night and rub in some nice lotion. I refuse to wear clothes that don’t make me feel good, and pay top dollar to get a really good hair cut. You catch my drift. How can I be the peace I want to see in the world, if I can’t even treat myself with basic nicety?  When I first started, I’d make a list of what made me feel loving and lovable, to refer to.

I can even ask for what I need. Case in point: I have no shame, none at all, in telling folks when my birthday is and well ahead of time. See, I can’t expect people to

Is the rose you pick yourself less sweet?

read my mind. Not even about stuff that seems obvious. Now, I’ll make sure I get to have a fun day, or even a few days. It’s special to feel special. And I’m delighted to give folks the opportunity to join the celebration.

For the record, the big day is next Wednesday, August 24. Party on!

The sun also rises.

This is dedicated to all my friends, colleagues and family members who’ve had a loss recently. My heart is with you. Because I know how it feels, and I too am grieving, I wanted to share some basic ideas that help me:

• Reach out for hugs, prayers, coffee, a listening ear. People want to help but don’t always know how. As best you can, clue them in. Yes, they’re going about their daily lives. But most people will make a little space for you if you ask.

• Let in the love. When my mother died several years ago, a mentor told me to let other women nurture me. So I did. But I also had to soften my belly, unclench my chest and feel what they were offering.

• Treat yourself tenderly. As much as you can, add in lots of extra self-care: healthy, tasty meals; sweet lavender lotion; massages; a new novel to lose yourself in a little; an evening to veg on the couch with goofy old TV reruns.

• Use rituals. One friend tells how she’ll be burning a candle next to her dad’s photo for 42 days, a Buddhist practice. Perhaps you’ll write a daily letter to your loved one. I invoke my late friend Karen’s spirit during my morning meditation and blow her house a kiss whenever I pass. These repetitive actions soothe our soul and are a form of permanence in times of enormous uncertainty.

• Drop your expectations. Grief takes many forms—irritation, irrationality, fatigue, depression. It can get pretty grungy. Don’t put pressure on yourself to do better or be better than you can. It doesn’t work, and it’s not kind.

• Don’t listen to the lies. Regret is part of grief. We will always want one more hug, one more visit, one more moment. It’s not our fault that that can’t happen. We didn’t cause what happened. If there was something we maybe could have done better, we have to let that go. Our loved one is at peace and he or she forgives us. We can forgive ourselves.

• Schedule your tears. One way I learned to manage the crying, because it can be awkward bursting into tears at, say, work, is to plan for a time of day when I’d find a way to be by myself, lean into the sorrow, and let it rip. Sometimes when I need to cry and can’t, I watch a sad movie. For years, Out of Africa did it for me. This tip, by the way, is for a few weeks or months down the road. Early on, crying all the time, well, it is what it is, whenever, whereever.

• Use the yearning. I employ that hungry ache inside as an avenue to feel a connection to the one I’m missing, and to my higher power. And from there, draw in as much consolation as I can hold, even as I still feel the ache of the loss.