World Mental Health Day (10.10.26) is an opportunity to reflect on how we care for our mental health. One aspect of that is self-care; whilst it cannot remove every difficulty or replace professional or community support, it is an important way to support our wellbeing.
Advice to “prioritise your self-care” is everywhere. While waiting for a dentist appointment recently, I skimmed a couple of magazines and counted seven mentions of the phrase in just a few minutes. I am not a big consumer of social media, but I regularly encounter similar encouragement there too. It is a phrase used so widely that it is worth asking what it actually means, and whether it always involves choosing what feels the most comfortable to us.
In the counselling world, self-care is familiar language. I often invite clients to think about how they are looking after themselves during and between sessions. At its simplest, self-care means noticing what helps us function and flourish, then responding to those needs with kindness and intention. It includes caring for our physical needs, such as sleep, food, movement and medical attention; our cognitive needs, such as intellectual stimulation, rest and manageable demands; our emotional needs, such as acknowledging feelings and seeking support; and our relational needs, including connection, boundaries and time alone. These areas overlap, and what we need may change from one day or one stage of life to another.
Self-care isn't always taking the easiest option
Self-care is not synonymous with the easiest or most immediately comforting choice. Sometimes it means resting or stepping back; at other times it means tolerating uncertainty, asking for help, or taking a considered and manageable risk. So how can we tell the difference between caring for ourselves and avoiding something that might help us grow?
Self-care is personal to each of us, but this does not mean that anything we label as self-care will support us. I once thought self-care meant things like taking a nap, buying myself a plant or some flowers, or eating a tasty treat—normally once I had “earned” it. Those things can certainly be self-nurturing. During my counselling training, however, my understanding broadened. Self-care also came to mean recognising when to say yes and when to say no, expressing what I was genuinely feeling and thinking, and allowing the people around me to see more of who I was.
Things can feel challenging when we think about the need to balance self-care and care of others. If a partner, child or friend wants a particular film or food choice, and I want another, caring for myself does not mean insisting on my preference. Nor does caring for the relationship always mean giving way. It may mean noticing both sets of needs, talking about them and accepting that compromise will sometimes be the best choice.
Avoidance vs Genuine Self-care: finding the line
Something I hear from clients is the self-questioning that can happen when we begin to change. If a person recognises, for example, that they naturally need plenty of time alone, turning down some social invitations may be a genuine way of caring for themselves. But if they turn down every invitation because they predict that it will be difficult, the same choice will gradually narrow their life and their circle of connections; connections are crucial to strong mental health. As ever, finding a balance is important – this could look like sometimes honouring a need for solitude and sometimes accepting some tiredness or discomfort in order to access and maintain connection with others.
One risk in the popular self-care messaging is that it can sometimes be used to justify avoiding anything we don’t feel like doing. Clear boundaries are essential, and rest or withdrawal may be exactly what is needed at times, but if they consistently keep us from things, or people, that matter to us, it may be worth asking whether they are still serving us.
One helpful way of thinking about self-development is through three broad zones: comfort, stretch and overwhelm. In the comfort zone, things feel familiar and sit within our current capacity, so we may operate, rest and recover largely on autopilot. In the stretch or learning zone, we may feel some discomfort as we try new skills, knowledge or behaviours, but we still have enough capacity to do the learning. In the overwhelm or panic zone, demands exceed what we can manage at that moment, and our ability to process and learn may reduce as protective survival responses take over. The boundaries to each zone are not fixed: they can shift with our health, circumstances, support and previous experiences.
For me, self-care involves noticing which zone I am in and choosing accordingly. At times I may benefit from stretching myself; at others, returning to comfort and recovery is the wisest response. The aim is not to remain permanently challenged, but to find a level of demand that is workable for me at that moment. Goldilocks and the three bears come to mind: not too much, not too little, but just the right amount of stretch.
When we are unsure whether a choice is caring of self or simply avoidant, it can help to pause and ask: What need am I responding to? What are the likely short- and longer-term effects of this choice? Am I moving towards something important to me, or mainly trying to escape discomfort? Is the challenge manageable, or am I already close to overwhelm? There may not be one perfect answer, but these questions can make the choice more conscious.
How do you currently understand self-care? Does it feel like something you “should” do, e.g. eat well, exercise consistently, get a solid 8 hours of sleep? Does it mean choosing things that feel good in the moment? When does saying no protect an important boundary, and when might it keep you from something you value? Which physical, cognitive, emotional or relational need is asking for your attention at the moment?
Perhaps self-care is really about developing an honest and flexible approach which allows us to notice what we need, what we value, what we can realistically manage and what we can adapt if we don’t get it right every time. If this feels difficult, it may be something worth exploring with a counsellor who can help you build your awareness of your capacity and of your choices.
Image: Tom Allport on Unsplash
