Lately I've been bristling at the term “self-care.”
I support self-care for what it should be, but the term has become a buzzword, often applied to scenarios where more intentional and serious language should be introduced.
Watch the news, then imagine me saying, what our world needs is more self-care. Or picture the early days of the pandemic: Don’t worry, we will simply self-care our way through this global crisis.
The term is laughable in those examples—and revealing when we think about who the typical self-care audience comprises. These days, “self-care” is often marketed toward women as a cure-all solution to massive systemic problems, like burnout, gaslighting, inequality, and anxiety. And the advice that follows is either vague or puts the onus on women to fix themselves in order to better adjust to a world that isn’t necessarily built to support us.
So instead of discussing how to self-care your way through a summer that isn’t going as planned (based on our latest poll, 67% of you say this is how you feel, wow), I want to talk about something different: how we recognize when self-care is enough, and when it isn’t. And how simply knowing self-care is not the solution can remove some of the burden we’re all feeling.
Let’s start with a basic definition of the term: Self-care is the act of taking care of your own needs and wellbeing, and it is essential. The seven pillars of self-care are physical, mental, emotional, social, environmental, spiritual, and recreational. Getting enough sleep is physical self-care. Journaling is emotional self-care. Hobbies are recreational self-care.
Moments when self-care is a solution have clean and simple relationships like this:
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“I feel tired” = rest
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“I feel lonely” = call your best friend
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“I feel unfulfilled” = learn a new skill or explore your values
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“I feel anxious” = meditate, journal, do breathwork exercises
But life is rarely that simple. What happens when the answer is more complex? When you’re not just tired, but depleted? When you’re not just lonely, but chronically struggle to make connections? When you’re too busy supporting your basic needs to explore fulfillment?
Those aren’t self-care issues. They’re deeper and require more exploration to discover the root cause. Let’s look at the examples through that lens:
“I feel tired all of the time, even when I rest”
That might be burnout, which is not going to be resolved with a quick nap.
What could help: boundaries, time off (if possible), talking to your manager, re-evaluating expectations, or systemic support (like flexible work hours so parents can juggle multiple priorities).
“I feel disconnected from everyone”
This might be grief, depression, or something societal, like a lack of third spaces making it possible for people to meet and make new friends.
What could help: therapy, online forums, volunteering, or simply validating your experience.
“I feel anxious at work, even though I’m meditating and journaling.”
That could be a lack of psychological safety. Self-care can’t fix a toxic culture or a gaslighting boss.
What could help: talking to your manager or HR, looking for a new job, or boundaries.
“I feel unfulfilled, but I have to work to survive”
This is systemic, and it’s not something self-care can resolve.
What could help: honest conversations about fair pay and workplace conditions, connecting with communities or groups who share your experience, mentally pivoting to celebrate skill-building even as you do survival work, or building in “mini” fulfillment breaks (even just once a quarter) that allow you to gradually fill that bucket.
I say “what could help” here because for these larger issues, there often isn’t a clear-cut solution like you would see in a self-care scenario. A bath bomb might dissolve a tense workday, but it doesn’t unfurl a tense life. Still, you can validate your experience, seek support and community, and even advocate for greater changes that make your reality more sustainable.
For me, the validation aspect always begins with questioning whether this is a me problem or something bigger. Is this mine to carry, or does what I’m facing need support, change, advocacy, or overhaul? And if it’s the latter—and not immediately in my control—how can I cope?
