We all think we know what self-care is. The latte we call a treat. The yoga class we race to between errands. The Sunday spent catching up on laundry that we generously call rest. Of course I take care of myself, we say, in the same breezy way we insist we drink enough water. The word has become so familiar that it barely registers anymore. But beneath that easy phrase lives something far deeper, a question most of us never pause long enough to ask: what would it truly mean to care for myself, fully and tenderly, from the inside out?
Most of us don’t ask that question until we have to. Until the ground gives way. A loss, an ending, a life that suddenly looks nothing like the one you planned. And there, in search of the tiniest fragment of hope, the question finally rises.
It rose for me at 32, flat on my back with pneumonia for two weeks. I had been saying yes to everything, pushing through exhaustion, promising myself I would rest when everything was done. Except everything was never done. My body had been sending me warnings for months, and I ignored every one. So it stopped asking. It put me to bed and kept me there.
Too weak to get up and take care of everyone else, I finally faced the truth I had spent years outrunning: I had never truly taken care of myself. I tell the whole story in my book, Inside: A Guide to the Resources Within, but here is what I learned in that bed.
When life becomes unrecognizable, we leave ourselves.
I believe this with every minuscule cell in my body. Not because we choose to, but because desperation quietly carries us out the door. The woman I was at 32 wasn’t ignoring herself. She was surviving.
For the last 34 years, I’ve been walking back home to myself, one itsy bitsy step at a time. I am still learning what it means to care for myself, and still amazed at how those tiny steps have changed everything I once believed was possible.
Somewhere along the way, I found my own definition. Self-care is not something you do once in a while. It is the practice of returning to yourself, again and again.
If that sounds impossible right now, I understand. I really do. Stay with me a little longer.
Start With a Foundation
Every journey begins with preparation, and coming home to yourself is no different. When I’m building anything, I ask one question before all others: what needs to happen first?
For self-care, the answer comes from a practice I share in my book. I check in with four parts of myself, Physical, Emotional, Mental, and Spiritual, which I call PEMS. Then I ask: which one is screaming the loudest?
What Was Screaming the Loudest
Physical. For me, at 32, it was my body, and by then it had stopped asking nicely. Your body often speaks first, too. Where are you holding tension? Where does the exhaustion live? I learned the hard way that the answer doesn’t need to be dramatic: rest, nourishment, a few slow breaths, offered before your body has to insist.
Emotional. Once my body slowed down, my feelings caught up with me. All the fear and overwhelm I had outrun by staying busy were waiting for me in that quiet room. What helped was not fixing them, but letting them be there without judgment. Patience. Permission to feel.
Mental. Then came the voice that told me I should be up, that I was falling behind, that rest was something I hadn’t earned. You may know that voice too. You don’t have to argue with it. Step back from it, set a gentle boundary, and let your mind rest.
Spiritual. And underneath it all, slowly, came a quiet trust. The sense that I was not broken, only far from home. Reconnecting with that inner wisdom is where you loosen your grip on control and begin to come back to who you truly are.
You don’t need to tend to all four at once. I certainly didn’t. I started with the one screaming loudest, and that was my first itsy bitsy step. Today, you can take yours.
Your First Step Home
So here is my invitation. Before you close this page, rest a hand on your heart, take one slow breath, and ask: which part of me needs care today? Then offer it one small kindness. A nap. A glass of water. A walk without your phone. That’s where it begins.
And if you’d love company along the way, I created Brave Rest for exactly this: forty days of guided Yoga Nidra you move through at your own pace, coming home to yourself one rest at a time. It is everything I wish someone had handed me in that bed at 32. Begin Brave Rest here. If you’d rather start with my story, Inside is waiting for you.
Not a treat. Not a reward for surviving the week. Just you, coming home. Start small. Start today. You are so worth the care.
Forever and always from my corner,
❥ Sarah
