Wellness by Example: A Mother-Daughter Inheritance

Words by Yaminah Mayo

At the end of a challenging therapy session, my therapist always reminded me to be easy with myself, drink water, and dig into my wellness practices. After lying in the fetal position on my couch for a while, I would head for my bathroom, eyes swollen and snot-nosed, to flush my face. “Water moves energy,” my mom always says. After pondering some of my mother’s apothegms, I start going through my mental rolodex of wellness practices from the spiritual (prayer) to the commercial (retail therapy or procuring a little treat); I’ve collected a multitude of tips watching my mother over the years.

Wellness, it’s such a loaded word and means an array of things to different people. To some, it can mean face masks, spa trips, and buying the latest beauty tool; to others, it means stretching, good nutrient-dense food, and journaling. I fall somewhere in between. As an only child born to an eldest daughter, I’ve watched my mom construct an array of wellness approaches to build a healthier life and advocate for herself in a family that didn’t discuss mental health or observe wellness en masse.

From quarterly trips to the Potrero Hill neighborhood of San Francisco for mani-pedis to afternoons spent watching my mom buy Clinique products at Stonestown Galleria, external self-care was always a pillar in our lives. When my mom decided to go to grad school in Boston, and our move took us cross country, we didn’t throw our practices away, instead we leaned in further: birthday trips to the spa; hair appointments in Ashmont; yoga classes, therapy, and monthly pilgrimages to Treasured Hands & Nails on Boylston St. (where I got my first gel manicure); and regular mother-daughter dinner dates. We even started Spa Day, a.k.a a quarterly slathering of bentonite clay masks, whilst massaging our feet in an electric foot spa. Simple, yet effective ways of reminding ourselves to care for ourselves.

As you can guess, when I moved to New York in 2014, I took those simple practices with me and built upon them. When I arrived, the years of simple acts of self-kindness came in handy because I needed a routine to lean on like meal prepping and 30-minute tasks when my clinical depression provided no motivation to eat, leave the house, or even bathe.

I still have a monthly nail appointment; the birthday spa trips are still sacrosanct (I aspire to make the trips quarterly or monthly); and I also have a closet full of beauty products for any impromptu spa day. However, now that I’m in my 30s and I require more structure to keep my depression at bay and my anxiety in check, my wellness practices have moved internal- doctor’s appointments, therapy, psychotropic medication, and different activities that enhance my mood.

I’ll easily choose a Pilates class over a late night of drinking. I keep my fridge stocked with fruits, veggies, and nutritious meals– despite habitually choosing Popeye’s over salad. I’ll take a night in laughing with friends over a crowded club. I celebrate every night my head hits the pillow before my 11:30 p.m. bedtime. I’m not the only one changing. Whenever I call to check in on my mom, she’s also busy with her own enriching hobbies and activities: She has a water bar thanks to TikTok to ensure she hydrates; she walks to work; she learned to swim and play pickleball; and she’s recently taken up gardening thanks to a diverse seed library at her university.

I still love a little treat, believe you me, popping into Sephora, perusing the aisles, and discovering a new fabulous lip gloss, blush, or beauty tool. However, meal prepping, moving my body, and maintaining my home are what enable me commence and conclude my day rested and relaxed. Those are the elements of wellness that excite me the most.

I’m grateful for the example my mom set. Whether she knows it or not, her decisions to go to therapy and explore healthier outlets for her stress, such as walking and yoga, has broken generational strongholds. My ancestors couldn’t be preoccupied with constructing a wellness practice in their quest to thrive after settling in California after the Great Migration. It is a gift I could never repay. Yet, my mom strived to instilled those principles in me while taking it a step further: Find ease in the survival. Maintain the external but sustain the internal.

What began as a daughter following her mother’s example, morphed into my own curation of wellness routines and self-care to lean on in my darkest hours. Wellness, as I’ve come to understand, goes beyond the consumption. It is the melange of rituals and routines we perform to usher in ease, structure, and most importantly, renewal.