Is there a “right” way to practise self-care?
For a long time I thought I was not doing the “right” kind of self-care. Mine did not come with candles, or long baths, or perfect mornings. And without noticing, I started measuring my own wellbeing against an aesthetic: the aesthetic of rest, of calm, of a tidy life.
The trouble is that real life is rarely as photogenic as what we see on Instagram. And that is exactly where I realised something important: looking after myself in real life is rarely “aesthetic”. Sometimes it is uncomfortable, sometimes it is boring, and sometimes it cannot be turned into content. But it works, and honestly, that is what I care about.
When self-care becomes performance (without meaning to)
There is a version of self-care that shows up online constantly, and that we therefore consume constantly: light, pretty, aspirational, straight off Pinterest. Almost always tied to:
- long, immaculate routines,
- endless products and rituals,
- free time (as though it were something neutral and guaranteed),
- a sense of having life all worked out.
To be clear: there is nothing wrong with candles, long baths, or routines that make the morning feel infinite (well… perhaps a little, if they are not done consciously).
For me the problem starts when that becomes the standard, and everything else starts to look like “less” self-care, when it is nothing of the sort.
When your head starts saying:
- “If you did not do the ritual, you did not look after yourself.”
- “If it did not look good, it does not count.”
- “If you are not doing it the way you ‘should’, you are failing.”
If that is the feeling, this is where self-care loses its main job: holding us up.
For me, self-care is more about limits than rituals
My self-care happens far more in the limits than in the rituals.
It is not glamorous and it is not Instagrammable… but does anyone actually look good in one of those headbands first thing in the morning?!
What I can say is that my self-care is real, and that it is repeatable even in difficult weeks.
1) Switching off when I wanted to stay connected
Sometimes the simplest gesture is the hardest one: switching off.
Going a whole day without opening Instagram, for instance.
I know we suffer more and more from FOMO (fear of missing out), and that feeling of “I am missing something” duly turns up.
But I make the effort to switch off anyway, because there are days when being permanently connected does not inform me. It just drains me.
Self-care is this too: choosing less stimulation in order to have more presence.
2) Saying “no”, even when part of me wanted to go
This one is an adult-life classic: sometimes you want to go, and you also want to stay in.
For a long time I read that as indecision. These days I see it differently: it is my body asking for space. Do I always do what my body tells me? No, but I try to pay more attention to what it is asking for.
Saying “no” to invitations (even to good things) can be self-care when:
- you need silence,
- your energy is at its limit,
- you know you will “pay for it” the next day.
It is not a lack of willingness, and it is not rudeness. It is emotional responsibility. In fact, it is one of the most honest forms of self-care there is: protecting your energy before it runs out.
3) Sleeping, even when my head insists I should be producing
Sleep is an unromantic kind of self-care, and an easy one to skip over.
You cannot “show” it, so it does not feel like an achievement, but it is often the most essential gesture of all.
There are days when my head insists I should be producing more, making the most of the evening, “getting ahead”. Except that being tired does not make me more productive. Quite the opposite: it makes me less present, less patient, less creative.
So if my body asks for sleep, I try to listen. Sleep is a limit, and sometimes it is the limit that saves everything else.
4) Making lists so I do not lose myself
Lists are a habit of mine that comes down to being an anxious person. It is not pretty and it is not zen, but it helps me enormously.
Making lists is a practical form of self-care when:
- your head is full,
- there are too many loose ends,
- you feel like you are always forgetting something,
- you need order in order to breathe more easily.
I do not make lists to be perfect. I make lists to have less noise.
And that is self-care too: creating just enough structure for the mind to rest. The other day I came across a simple exercise (writing down everything worrying you in a notebook before bed), which lets the mind go to sleep calmly.
Perhaps self-care is not for sharing, but for sustaining
Self-care does not have to be Instagrammable or worthy of a Pinterest board. It has to be possible. Something each of us can actually do and, above all, keep up. Something that keeps us whole even when nobody is watching.
That changes everything, because it takes self-care out of the realm of performance and puts it back where it belongs: care as the foundation of life, not as a spectacle.
For me self-care is not only creams. It is:
- switching off,
- staying in,
- sleeping,
- saying “no”,
- simplifying,
- asking for help,
- doing less so that I can keep going.
It may not look pretty, but it may be exactly what allows you to carry on, and exactly what you need.
A simple (and very real) invitation
If you have been feeling that you are “not looking after yourself the way you should”, perhaps the question is not what am I failing to do, but something far simpler:
what is holding me up right now, even if it is not pretty?
Because very often the most important self-care is not the kind you show, but the kind that goes unnoticed and keeps everything standing.
If you have a gesture or habit that is not pretty (but is essential), share it so that more people can take it up.
