Are we abusing self-care?

Many of us—especially women, and especially those who’ve grown through maturity—have wrestled with the thin line between genuine self-care and selfishness. Some of us have even convinced ourselves that what is actually selfishness is self-care. Over the past two years, I’ve 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, not catastrophizing about things that haven’t happened, and doing what is genuinely best for myself.

Photo by Jon Tyson on Unsplash

But as I leaned into this practice, I found myself wondering: When does self-care turn into selfishness? 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 set me up to sacrifice more? Is there such a thing as harmful self-care?

As I navigated this landscape of self-help and mental wellness, I realized 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 never require intentional inconvenience, harm, rudeness, or emotional injury to others. There are, of course, exceptions. One of my self-care practices is drawing boundaries—firm ones—when someone repeatedly causes emotional distress or harm. Boundaries are a defense mechanism meant to protect me, even when the consequence is that the offending person becomes persona non grata in my life if they cannot respect those limits. How they feel about the consequence of their own behavior 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. If we run to “self-care” because we feel discomfort from our own self-inflicted anxiety, avoidance becomes harmful rather than healing.

And when we cancel commitments—especially small ones—simply because we “don’t feel like it,” that isn’t self-care. It’s rudeness. And while we are free to act that way, we must also be prepared for others to mirror that behavior. This isn’t about revenge; it’s about understanding that the social rules we break for our own convenience are often the same ones we rely on from others.

Meaningful inward care cannot truly exist without outward care. If we act solely based on our own comfort and feelings, we will eventually find ourselves equally affected by the inconvenience, rudeness, or emotional harm of others. So it’s worth asking: if your version of “self-care” frequently causes others inconvenience, injury, or emotional distress, 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 a natural consequence of their own harmful behavior.

So the next time you decide to practice self-care, ask yourself honestly: Am I nurturing myself? Feeding my anxiety? Or simply being selfish? That honesty, perhaps more than anything else, is the truest form of self-care.