One of the most healing things I’ve done in this chapter of my life is give myself full permission to feel good. Not just okay, not just stable—good.

That means making time for rest without guilt. Saying yes to things that bring me joy. Creating little rituals that make my everyday life more pleasant. And letting go of the idea that self-care is selfish or indulgent. It’s not. It’s foundational.

So what is self-care, really?

Self-care is anything you do intentionally to support your physical, emotional, mental, or spiritual well-being. It’s deeply personal—what restores one person might not work for another. For me, self-care includes everything from getting enough sleep to reading books I love. But more than that, self-care has become a proactive practice: a way to maintain my energy and clarity before I reach the edge of burnout.

It also means taking my physical health seriously. I go to the doctor when I need to. I address the nagging issues I used to ignore—because I’ve realized that my body matters, not just for now, but for the future. Preventive care is a big deal. It’s not about chasing perfection—it’s about honoring the body I live in and doing what I can to feel as good as possible, inside and out. That might mean physical therapy, movement, changing routines, or just finally drinking more water and getting consistent sleep. I’m not aiming for some ideal; I’m aiming for well-being.

Beyond physical health, self-care also includes rest, pleasure, and mental clarity. It’s the decision to put my phone down and go for a walk. It’s reaching out to a therapist, journaling on the weekend, or saying no to a plan that feels like too much. It’s permission to prioritize myself, not as an afterthought, but as a necessity.

And one of the most joyful parts of self-care is making space for pleasure—on purpose.

Adding pleasure to life doesn’t have to be dramatic or expensive. It starts with tuning into your senses. I light a candle with a scent I love, use the nice mug, wear clothes that feel good on my skin. I try to eat slowly and actually enjoy what I’m eating. I’ve learned that pleasure often lives in the body, in the small and tangible.

I also create moments to look forward to. I plan solo movie nights, little trips, or walks in beautiful places. Anticipation can be a form of pleasure, too.

I move my body in ways that feel joyful—not just for exercise, but because dancing in the kitchen or stretching in the morning changes my whole energy. I build fun into my routine, say yes to things that make me laugh, and try new hobbies just for the experience—not for achievement.

And most importantly, I’ve worked hard to let go of guilt around feeling good. Pleasure isn’t a reward for being productive. It’s not something I have to “earn.” It’s a necessary part of living a full, grounded, emotionally healthy life.

As a solo parent, it’s easy to stay in survival mode. There’s always something that needs doing, always someone who needs attention. But when I’m running on empty, I’m not at my best—for myself or for my daughter. So I’ve learned to build self-care into my life like any other essential habit. Not a reward. A requirement.

For me, that looks like:

• Giving myself time alone to recharge
• Moving my body in ways that feel good, not punishing
• Cooking simple meals that nourish me
• Reading books just for pleasure
• Planning trips that give me something to look forward to
• Saying no to things that drain me
• Making space for laughter, music, and sunlight

Self-care is also resistance. In a world that often equates worth with productivity, choosing to take care of yourself is a radical act. It says: I matter. My well-being matters. And that truth becomes the foundation for how I live, love, and lead.

Pleasure and peace are not luxuries. They’re necessary. And in this season of life, I’m claiming them fully.