Many of us—especially women, and especially those who have grown into the clarities of maturity—have wrestled with the thin line between genuine self-care and selfishness.
When does self-care quietly become selfishness?
Over the past two years, I have become an ardent practitioner of self-care. By that I mean prioritizing my mental and physical health, letting go of the fear of being judged, refusing to catastrophize about events that have not yet happened, and doing what is genuinely best for myself.
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| Mexico City, July 2023 |
Yet as I leaned into this practice, a series of questions lingered. Are sacrifices and compromises always harmful? Should I still sacrifice for the greater good? And when I do sacrifice, does it actually matter—or does it simply train others to expect more sacrifice? Is there such a thing as harmful self-care?
As I reflected on how easily the language of self-care is used today, I began to see that healthy self-care requires a balance between inward care and outward care. Inward care is what we do for ourselves. Outward care is how we care for others through mindfulness and empathy.
There is, indeed, a fine line between self-care and selfishness. Inward care should not require intentional inconvenience, harm, rudeness, or emotional injury to others. There are, of course, exceptions—particularly when harm has already occurred.
One of my own practices of self-care is drawing boundaries—firm ones—when someone repeatedly causes emotional distress or harm. A boundary is not drawn because I simply do not feel like accommodating someone. It is drawn when there has been actual harm, when the boundary has been clearly communicated, and when the other person understands the consequences of crossing it. Boundaries are a defense meant to protect me, even when the consequence is that the offending person becomes persona non grata in my life if they continue to ignore those limits. At that point, the discomfort they feel is not harm inflicted upon them—it is the natural consequence of their own behavior. How they respond to that consequence is not my responsibility. I leave those with persistent harmful patterns to seek course correction with trained mental-health professionals.
But self-care does not mean chasing comfort at all times. Growth often requires discomfort. There is a difference between harm and discomfort. Withdrawal itself is not harm. Sometimes stepping away is necessary to protect one’s well-being. But it is worth asking ourselves honestly: are we withdrawing because we are protecting ourselves—or simply because we do not want to deal with something difficult? Have we truly been harmed, or have we merely changed our minds?
And when we cancel commitments—especially small ones—simply because we no longer feel like keeping them, that is not self-care. It is rudeness. We are free to behave that way, of course. But we should not be surprised when others mirror the same indifference. This is not revenge. It is simply the quiet logic of social life: the rules we discard for our own convenience are often the very ones we rely upon from others.
Self-care becomes something else entirely when selfishness borrows its language. The desire for comfort is human. Yet when our comfort depends on extracting time, service, or emotional reassurance from others, the practice ceases to be care. It becomes a demand placed on someone else in the language of self-care.
Meaningful inward care cannot truly exist without outward care. If we act solely on our own comfort and feelings, we will eventually find ourselves equally affected by the inconvenience, rudeness, or emotional harm of others. It is worth asking: if your version of “self-care” frequently causes inconvenience, injury, or distress to others, what does that say about your relationships—or about you?
Ultimately, inward care should primarily affect you, not harm the people around you—unless the discomfort they feel is the natural consequence of their own harmful behavior.
So the next time you decide to practice self-care, ask yourself honestly: are you nurturing yourself, feeding your anxiety, or simply being selfish?
That honesty, perhaps more than anything else, is the truest form of self-care.
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