Over time, these practices felt like band-aids on a wound needing stitches. I realized I was trying to nurture not just my body or mind, but a fragmented sense of self, lost amidst the chaos of the pressure to be marketable and successful. I wasn’t connected to myself enough to even have an idea of what my true needs were. Instead, I had turned to what seemed to work for everybody else. When I recognized the irony of this, I concluded that a one-size-fits-all approach to self-care felt like an oxymoron.
I realized my self-value seemed tied to my productivity and achievements, a mindset that only deepened my sense of inadequacy and isolation. The emphasis on individual responsibility and self-reliance made me feel like I had to constantly improve and be the entrepreneur of my own life. Not only did I have to listen to my authentic needs, I had to unlearn what was getting in the way of really understanding them.
I wasn’t alone in wanting to unlearn these ingrained ideas. I delved into articles on self-care and hyper-individualism. During my research, I discovered Nikolas Rose, who argued that our sense of self is constructed by society. My perceptions of myself were all constructed by entities external to me, meaning I was trying to take care of a perception of myself that was not authentic. Whether my sense of self was shaped by the desire to succeed, hyper-individualism, or any other of the many factors at play, the idea that it was constructed liberated me to be able to deconstruct and learn more about (and thus come closer to) an authentic version of my self. This resonated deeply with me, revealing that many of us feel this way because we’re conditioned to see ourselves through a lens of constant self-optimization and marketability.
Many people try to sell the next big thing in self-care, promoting their methods as the best way to achieve self-confidence. When I learned that both self-care and selfhood are socially constructed, I felt validated in disconnecting from societal expectations and focusing on what self-care means for me personally.
This was a turning point. The stress and anxiety I felt weren’t just personal failings, but symptoms of a broader social issue. Authentic self-care, I started to understand, wasn’t about adhering to these ideals of marketability and isolating individualism. It was about recognizing when they get in the way of both my authenticity and listening to what I truly need in regard to taking care of myself.
To explore this, I sought meaningful connections with others who felt the same way, focusing on bringing authenticity to myself and existing relationships. I stayed open to more significant conversations and mutual care and compassion. I spent more time in nature, not as a form of escapism but as a way to reconnect with the world around me. Focusing on an authentic connection to anything – from people to trees, and even food – it wasn’t about going through the motions of what activity I was doing, it was about fostering a relationship to its deeper purpose.
This new perspective transformed my approach to self-care. I now see it as a holistic practice that involves nurturing my connections with my authentic self, others, and my environment. Self-care is no longer a checklist of activities to do, but rather a platform of authenticity for how I carry myself in all of my interactions.
This platform reminds me I am not alone and highlights the strength of collective support. When I think of self-care now, I shift my focus from individual achievement to community well-being, understanding that my mental health is intertwined with the health of those around me.
The pressure to constantly conform to social ideals of success is slowly lifting. I have learned to forgive myself for not always meeting those standards and to value myself for who I am, not for what I can achieve. This shift enabled me to find a sense of peace that had eluded me for so long.
Today, I continue to practice authentic self-care by embracing collective support and constantly unlearning the individualist tendencies of the status quo. I’ve come to understand that personal responsibility is important in context, but so is our responsibility to one another and thus ourselves. In this shared humanity, I’ve found a deeper appreciation for myself and others, realizing that our potential lies not in isolated self-improvement, but in our connections and community.
