Self-Care
What If We Played More? and cared a little less about what people think...
September 11, 2025
— CHRISTINE SPARACINO
I have been remiss to not yet mention play as self-care. It was staring me right in the face, but I had not yet named it. Self-care is play and play is self-care. Enjoyment. Fun. Geeking out on whatever lights you up.
I have been remiss to not yet mention play as self-care. It was staring me right in the face, but I had not yet named it. Self-care is play and play is self-care. Enjoyment. Fun. Geeking out on whatever lights you up.
When I was a child, play looked like dressing my agreeable and exceedingly patient cat in baby doll clothes and putting her in a carriage. We would have our adventures together…secret expeditions. She was an outside cat that I had to sneak in. It wasn’t much of a secret because my red itchy eyes and congested nose would give me away afterwards. “Stopping hugging the cat” and “Don't get your face so close to her” were things my mother often told me. My response - “Don’t ruin my play.”
My favorite place to play as a child was in my bedroom. I enjoyed playing alone. No fawning in my alone play. I sat on the floor with my Barbies strewn around me. There were wardrobe changes and scenes to set. I played house, styled hair, picked outfits. Navigated conflict between Ken and Barbie. I loved dolls. Strawberry Shortcake dolls. My Little Pony. Barbies.
My grandmother gave me a camera for my 7th birthday, and I loved taking pictures. I would pose the cat and snap her image over and over. My younger brother would play dress up with me and pose while I snapped his photo. I took photos of nature, of flowers, and blades of grass. My imagination ran wild behind the lens. Then I eagerly awaited the film development, to see what treasures were inside.
I loved painting - painting rocks from the garden, paint-by-numbers. I loved cross-stitch and sewing. I loved playing in the kitchen, inventing “recipes.” I loved board games, card games. I loved playing volleyball. I loved swim team (play mixed with competition and personal achievement). I loved reading books and library visits.
What was your favorite childhood play?
As I grew up, play became a pre-scheduled activity on the calendar. Then several years ago, Brené Brown recommended a book - Play by Stuart Brown. As I read it, I mentally investigated play in my life. What was I doing to play? What did it look like for me now as an adult?
The exercise felt forced at the time. My brain was trying to sort through the problem before the rest of me caught up. Play was nuanced. I was in deep reflection and searching for what was missing from life. It was an awakening that reorganized my priorities. It changed how I traveled, how I worked, and how I spent my time.
Years later, when I was randomly assigned a writing partner, our weekly chats naturally centered around play, less responsibility, and redefining ourselves. We both questioned how to have more play in the everyday, not just the dates scheduled on the calendar. I suspect she may be a little better at play than me. But, that’s not a bad thing - to have someone that inadvertently pushes you a bit. Her playful nature is infectious. I can’t help but want some play for myself. It is also permission giving to be with someone doing the things I’m not sure adults are allowed.
As I dip my toe into more play, I see it everywhere. Other people talk of doing what’s fun and easy. And just like that I am infected with the spirit of play. Play seems to be the antidote to what ails me. The remedy to my weary, over-responsible soul. Could it be the antidote for your weary over-responsibility too?
I have entered an era (thank you Taylor Swift) where play is more organic. A season of life where there is more organic play in my life. Where it does not feel forced. Where it seems to naturally ooze out. Let me explain…
In my Type A, driven, ever-striving psyche, play was something scheduled on the calendar. A concert or a trip. Something prescribed, mostly measured. Now I find play sprinkled throughout my days. Like stumbling onto glitter. You thought you cleaned it all up but then you find another piece. Like a small reminder to laugh, smile, be a little less serious.
I restarted a sticker collection in April after a 40 year absence. I joined two monthly sticker clubs. “Let myself” decorate my notebook pages.
Music and playlists provide more play. I have playlists for writing, for chores, for driving, for every activity. Music that makes me feel good…that prompts spontaneous dance parties, solo and joined by my husband. Dance parties in the kitchen, in the bedroom, in the pool, in my writing room, in the car. I even have a bedazzled microphone (a Christmas gift from my husband last year) for such purposes.
Travel continues to be play. New places to explore. Old ones to return to. New experiences to try. Familiar favorites. Play in travel deepened as I allowed myself to move slower through the itinerary.
Play enters as reading only the books that I am enjoying. No more pushing through for the sake of finishing a book. This isn’t school anymore. There are no grades or bossy teachers. I let myself read what I want, when I want, and let myself stop when I’m not having fun.
Play also emerges in the YouTube rabbit holes that I fall down, about notebooks and journals and note taking systems. Be warned! It’s a slippery slope!
Play looks like:
Sometimes play is allowing the silliness to exist, to come to the surface in my ever-serious life. Play is taking myself less seriously.
Sometimes it is abandon. Letting go of shoulds and doing what I really want to instead.
Sometimes play is rebellious. To be playing when the rest of the world is spending their days being serious. I was never the class clown or the amusement. Instead I was the serious student in the front row diligently taking notes and studying. Maybe it’s time for some comic relief in my life.
Self-care for me is allowing more play and releasing the guilt I feel for having too much fun. I really don’t want to “schedule” play anymore and for that to be all it is. Some prescriptive activity, confined in a space and time. Instead I want play as a thread running through my days. I have done so much pushing through. Pushing through books I don’t enjoy, through bad jobs and one-sided relationships, through grad school to reach the end, through long, hard days. Maybe the antidote is play…
For the over-responsible, play feels dangerous and rebellious but also liberating. Loosening the grip of control. Play can be throwing off what the world has told you that you are. Daring to redefine yourself on your own terms. Could play be an ultimate expression of self-care?
Play with abandon.
Play as often as you can.
Play in small ways and large ways.
Play with all that you possess.
Play in every area of your life.
Play with all that you can afford.
Play anywhere and everywhere.
Follow where it leads you.
Full body feel good. The kind that drips down and fills every crevice of your being.
What if we played more? And cared less about what others think about it?
What if we cared less about being childish? About being irresponsible?
Now, let’s go play!
