My shrink ended a session once “take care of yourself” and he left me to ruminate on that for the week. I had to confess that I had no idea what it meant – none. Whatsoever.

Self-care is obvious to most people, but to me it is dreadfully confusing. What is it? My body is like a foreigner to me, and I have no idea why it matters. “It.” Not me, it. I refer to my body – myself – as it. Only the brain matters. Everything else – the muscle, the viscera, the blood – isn’t real to me.

I took a quiz online which said that my physiological age is 51. Upon learning that I am 13 years closer to the grave than I should be, I felt oddly vindicated. Here was proof (albeit in the form of an online quiz) that my body is defective. Why bother trying to fix it? Why take care of myself?

I do not see the point in self-care. I assume most people with this goal accept that self-care is important. The fact that I don’t understand it says a lot.