Read this when someone suggests a bath, a candle, or “some time for yourself” and you feel an overwhelming urge to fake your own disappearance.
Read this when the phrase self-care makes you feel selfish, inadequate, or like you’re failing at yet another thing.
I can’t do self-care.
I can do self-maintenance.
That distinction matters.
Why “self-care” feels wrong (and self-maintenance doesn’t)
Self-care sounds optional.
It sounds indulgent. A bonus. Something you earn after coping well, being calm, or holding it together convincingly enough.
Self-maintenance sounds like what it is:
Keeping the system operational.
You don’t accuse a car of being selfish for needing fuel. You don’t call it indulgent to service a boiler. (oh crap I knew there was something I needed to do)
But somehow, humans are expected to run on vibes and guilt alone.
A brief and unfortunate fun fact
After my postpartum psychosis diagnosis, I was admitted to a general psychiatric ward.
While I was there, I wrote down every motivational quote I could find.
Every poster. Every leaflet. Every laminated affirmation.
I was unwell, overwhelmed, and surrounded by more inspirational quotes than a gift shop at the pier.
And do you know what?
None of them helped when I hadn’t eaten, slept, or felt remotely safe in my body.
Maintenance comes before meaning
Therapy taught me this, repeatedly, because I am slow to accept it:
You cannot mindset your way out of basic neglect.
No quote works if your nervous system is fried. No mantra lands if your blood sugar is on the floor. No affirmation sticks if you’re exhausted and dysregulated.
Before reflection comes maintenance.
What self-maintenance actually looks like
It’s not aesthetic.
It’s not aspirational.
It doesn’t look good on Instagram.
Self-maintenance is:
- eating something boring but nourishing
- drinking water like it’s your job
- sleeping without trying to “optimise” it
- showering because you smell, not because it’s relaxing
- taking medication as prescribed
- getting outside for five minutes like a sentient creature
No candles required.
This is not selfish. It’s structural.
Another thing therapy drilled into me:
You don’t become less worthy of care when you’re struggling.
You become more in need of maintenance.
Self-maintenance isn’t something you do once you’re okay. It’s what helps you get back to okay-ish.
If you’re allergic to motivational quotes, try this instead
You don’t need to pour from an empty cup.
You need to wash the cup.
You need to check it isn’t cracked.
You need to stop blaming the cup for being empty.
Final permission slip
You are allowed to prioritise maintenance without calling it healing.
You are allowed to keep yourself functioning without extracting meaning from it.
You are allowed to survive first and reflect later.
This isn’t indulgence.
It’s upkeep.
And you are allowed to require it.
