self-care—self-love—self-destruction

Self-care is so hot right now.

Cruise the hashtag on Instagram and you will find literally millions of bathtub pics and motivational memes. I even put some of them there myself.

Proper self-care is crucial to being a healthy and functioning person.

But at what point do we cross the line that we equate self-care to overindulgence and self-destructive behaviors?

When does self-care become self-sabotage?

I am super guilty of terrible “self-care”, you guys.

Consuming constant junk food, self-medicating with alcohol, staying up way too late scrolling Instagram, or watching murder themed trash television—I justify these behaviors as an escape from my endlessly demanding stay/work-from-home-mom lifestyle. I convince myself every day that I deserve to engage in bad behavior because my life is hard and exhausting.

But do I?

Do I really deserve to treat myself like total crap under the guise of “self-care”?

I don’t “care” for my children like that so why is self-destruction the default cure for my own daily stresses? Why do I reduce myself to a lump on the couch every single night, consuming literal garbage in all forms instead of actually caring for myself?

I make my kids complete a nightly bedtime ritual to create healthy habits around sleep. I make them go to bed at a reasonable hour so they feel rested and aren’t cranky in the morning. I feed them healthy home-cooked meals so they grow and have strong immune systems. I limit screens and let them be bored enough to get creative. I make them move their bodies and go outside to soak up the sun (even though I’m a total indoor kid).

Why is it so hard to treat me the same way??

I know I’m not alone here. Am I?

Am I just a trashcan of a person?

The truth is that real self-care is hard.

Yes, it can be taking long baths and sneaking solo time from your family in your car, but that is just surface level routine maintenance. For basic sanity.

But really caring for yourself isn’t always relaxing or indulgent.

Sometimes it’s doing the things we keep putting off that we plan on doing someday—when we have more time.

It’s having realistic expectations of ourselves and our limits so we don’t take on too much and burn ourselves out.

It’s knowing when to say no.

It’s getting up an extra hour before the kids do so you can move your body and ground yourself for the day—before all the crazy begins.

It’s taking time to make yourself a nutrient-dense meal instead of shoving handfuls of shredded cheese into your mouth for breakfast and inhaling half a bag of chips standing inside in the pantry for lunch.

It’s forcing yourself to go to bed before 5 AM— even though it’s easier to just binge Netflix until you knock out on the couch, wake up two hours later, and zombie off to bed.

I’m really just talking to myself here. I’m terrible about all these things. Every roommate I’ve ever had can tell you all about my terrible Netflix binge/couch sleeping habit.

Also, I’m stubborn af. Ask literally anyone who has met me irl.

I love garbage television.

I super love junk food.

And I hate going to bed.

I’m basically an unsupervised 8-year-old.

Breaking bad habits is hard. Especially if you love them. No matter how self-destructive they may be. I’ve tried and failed many many times.

And as I’ve been doing the work to heal my brain—I’ve been avoiding the fact that I’d eventually have to address my physical self-sabotage.

I honestly don’t know how I even function on my average of 4 hours of sleep each night—fueled exclusively by simple carbohydrates and room temperature coffee. I know I can’t live this way for much longer and I think my eventually is right now.

I generally don’t subscribe to the whole “new year, new me” mentality—but ‘tis the season, I guess.

I’m terrible at following rules. Even self-imposed ones. Like, I actively break all the rules intentionally for fun like a bratty toddler.

So instead of giving myself an exhaustive list of restrictions to adhere to for a week and then fail—I’m flipping the script.

I’m cautiously optimistic that if I keep the mindset of making daily decisions consciously rooted in self-love—maybe it’ll be easier to form habits that aren’t so self-destructive. And maybe I can trick my rebellious brain into believing that the healthy choice is the most radical one.

Like I said—I’m very stubborn. I want what I want when I want it. But I’m giving myself the benefit of the doubt that I can rewire my brain to care for myself at the same level that I care for my kids.

So I don’t die.

So here’s to saying yes to my yoga mat every day and saying no to 40 cookies for breakfast. To knowing my limits and choosing to show up for myself with love every single day.

Who’s with me?