Reframing self-care

When I think of the word “self-care,” I first associate it with skin masks, bubble baths and spending time alone. The term has become a sort of buzzword that stands for consistently choosing the most comfortable options. Even though choosing comfort is good at times, I think that this kind of messaging sometimes leads to a mentality that is more harmful than helpful. 

For many Asbury students, living on campus is our first chance to learn how to live away from home. With this comes new opportunities and new levels of responsibility to take care of our well-being. With new styles of classes to take, new people to meet and new ways to get involved on campus, it can be easy to commit to so many things that we become pulled in a million different directions without the chance to rest. For some of us, it may be difficult to say no, even when we are already juggling too much.

Some of us might lean too far in the other direction, however. While it’s a common experience to get into the habit of pushing ourselves past our breaking points, it’s also common to shy away from challenges to the point where “practicing self-care” becomes a crutch. It can be tempting to use the increased personal agency that many of us have in college to say “no” more than we could in the past. The more that we choose to cancel plans and turn down opportunities, the easier it gets. If we consistently refuse to enter into any situations that make us feel uncomfortable, however, then we will continuously rob ourselves of vital opportunities for growth. 

I understand the temptation to stay in my comfort zone all too well. I’ve had plenty of moments at Asbury where I’ve wanted nothing more than to back out of commitments in order to hide out in my room and watch TV. Regardless of how exciting it can be to explore new opportunities in college, the fact that they are new can be anxiety-inducing enough to want to avoid them altogether. But even though holding back can be temporarily comforting, I’ve rarely felt satisfied about it long-term. Nor have I felt like I was caring for myself. 

I’ve felt this way because I wasn’t really practicing self-care in these moments, at least not in the way that it was originally meant to be done. The origins of self-care as a concept date back to the 1950s. The idea was recorded by Carl Rogers, a humanistic psychologist who used the term to describe the self-preserving practices of people who had been institutionalized. In the 1960s, the same concept was used by participants in the Civil Rights Movement, particularly by the Black Panthers. For groups who regularly faced threats to their physical and mental well-being, self-care was once again an act of self-preservation. It was structured into intentional routines and worked into the fabric of their activism.

The meaning of the words we use changes over time, and I don’t think it’s always for the best. Always sticking to what is most convenient and calling it “self-care” distorts the purpose of the term. The difficulty of the work being done in the 1950s and 60s led people to actively practice self-care in order to find a balance. Self-care was meant to include intentional periods of rest and recharging, sandwiched between periods of challenge, discomfort and growth. 

For some of us, the challenges that we are facing in our own lives are not as intense as those faced by the people who coined the term. That being said, I think that we should look to routines of self-care that have worked for others when we’re trying to find that balance for ourselves. Practices of rest are meaningful when there is a reason to need them, and those reasons usually come with discomfort. Rather than thinking of self-care and discomfort as two separate entities, it can help to think of them as part of a cycle of wellbeing. 

The times when I’ve pushed through discomfort have ultimately been worthwhile throughout my past two years at Asbury. If I’d avoided every interaction that scared me, I wouldn’t have made the friends I have now. And if I’d shied away from every exciting but intimidating opportunity, I wouldn’t be doing things that I enjoy and get a lot out of, like writing for The Collegian. I still experience the impulse to stay in my comfort zone, and sometimes I absolutely do give in, but I’m usually glad when I manage to fight it off. 

Self-care isn’t just cozy nights in with warm drinks and a feel-good movie. We have to balance practices that comfort us with practices that do not. Going for scary but exciting opportunities or bringing food to a stressed-out friend when it’s not the most convenient is part of growing and finding community – both important parts of the college experience. Embracing discomfort should be part of the cycle of self-care.

Photo courtesy of Unsplash.

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *