Whenever I think of my YiaYia Harriet Patras, I see her with neatly styled hair, wearing a perfectly polished outfit, and decked to the nines in fairly heirlooms and conversation-starting rings.
My grandmother had a life filled with challenges and loss, though you’d never know it by looking at her.
When I learned about some of her personal struggles later in my adulthood, I was shocked. She was the first generation to make a life for herself in America, and she became a single parent at a young age. She survived kidney cancer just to get Alzheimer’s a decade later.
Life wasn’t always easy for her, but she certainly made it look that way.
My YiaYia showed me that when you look good, you can feel better
My grandmother and I spent every Saturday together until I was 10 years old. During these cherished afternoons, I would accompany her to her hair appointments and marvel at how punctual she was with her self-care routines.
She taught me from a young age that putting effort into your appearance isn’t such a bad thing, and she made it seem like second nature. I never saw her with a rip in her nylons or a stain on her shirt.
My YiaYia was also a firm believer that getting ready and looking nice could improve any bad mood. Even in her final days, well into her 80s, she always seemed to have her nails polished and hair styled.
I learned from her that even on the hardest of days, when life is throwing you curveballs, you should pick yourself up by dressing your best. Or, in other words, when you look good, you may just start to feel that way, too.
To this day, whenever I have one of those days when life doesn’t make sense, I’ll put on my cheetah jacket and heels, even if it’s just to take myself out for a walk.
Every time, I instantly feel better, and it turns my day around. She really was onto something.
My grandmother also showed me that taking time for yourself is the key to living a fulfilling life
My YiaYia spent a lot of her life doing things for others, whether she was making cinnamon-bread turkey sandwiches (her specialty) for her two sons’ school lunches or planning her town’s next fundraiser.
However, she wasn’t afraid to take time for herself. My dad told me that when he was growing up, she’d take every Saturday off, as if she were clocking out from her “job” as a parent for a few hours.
She’d spend hours doing all of the things that made her feel empowered, like getting her hair and nails done or having cocktails with her girlfriends. Apparently, she never missed a Saturday.
Taking care of herself by carving out unsolicited “me” time wasn’t a shameful secret. Instead, making it a routine helped her maintain her cherished independence and an identity beyond motherhood.
It’s a valuable lesson I’ve taken from her life, especially as a woman — it’s easy to take on so many roles and do so much for others that you forget to take care of yourself.
Because of her influence, though, I’ve found my so-called “selfish” moments to be the time I cherish the most. I go on daily walks alone and regularly take myself out for a glass of wine or plan a solo trip somewhere new.
And I never apologize for putting myself first.
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