Self-Care vs. Self-Indulgence: Why True Self-Care Practices Are Essential for Long-Term Mental Health

A few winters ago, I sat in my apartment, legs tucked under a weighted blanket, watching the steam rise from a mug of overpriced tea I bought “for self-care.” I hadn’t left the house in days. My inbox was full. My mind was loud. And yet, I scrolled past posts reminding me to rest, to slow down, to listen to my body. I told myself I was healing.

I wasn’t.

I was hiding.

We live in a time where self-care has become a buzzword, a balm, a business. And while there is nothing wrong with comfort—God knows we need it—there’s something deeper at stake. Many of us are tending to our wounds with soft, sweet rituals that feel good but heal nothing. And then we wonder why we’re still tired, still anxious, still lost.

This is a story about the difference between indulgence and care. Between what comforts us in the short term and what carries us in the long run. Between the life we’re numbing ourselves to and the one we’re brave enough to build.

What We’re Really Looking For

If you peel back the layers of any modern self-care post, you’ll usually find a familiar ache underneath: I’m overwhelmed. I’m exhausted. I don’t feel like enough.

And in response, the world gives us solutions packaged in soft colors and quick relief—skip the gym, buy the face mask, cancel your plans. The underlying message is clear: You deserve this. And that part is true. You do.

But what exactly are we calling “this”?

The problem isn’t that we’re treating ourselves. The problem is that we’ve started confusing escape for nourishment. We've started calling avoidance "healing." And too often, we’re leaning into indulgence when what we really need is courage.

The Invisible Work

Real self-care doesn’t always come with candles or hashtags. It often comes with sweat. With silence. With sitting through the discomfort of not having all the answers.

It looks like:

• Going to therapy, even when it's hard to speak the truth out loud.

• Cooking for yourself, not because it’s trendy, but because your body deserves to be cared for.

• Saying no to a night out, not to isolate, but to protect the energy you’ve barely managed to gather.

• Logging off, not to disappear, but to return to your own voice.

Self-care, at its core, is about preservation. Not of image—but of self. The self that’s tired of pretending. The self that wants to be okay for real, not just for show.

When Indulgence Becomes a Disguise

I once spent an entire Sunday binging a show, telling myself I was "unplugging." What I was really doing was avoiding a phone call I knew I needed to make. One that involved an apology, some vulnerability, and probably some tears. That wasn’t rest. That was running.

This is where the line between self-care and self-indulgence blurs. One roots you in reality. The other lets you drift further from it.

Indulgence whispers, “You’ve earned this. Let it all go.”

Care asks, “What do you truly need right now?”

Indulgence often feels easier, more immediate. But care builds something. It doesn’t sedate you; it strengthens you. Not all pleasure is a problem, but not all comfort is care.

Healing Isn’t Always Pretty

There’s this quiet myth that healing feels like peace. Like something soft and glowing. But more often, it feels like grief. Like fatigue. Like doing laundry when your heart feels broken. Like brushing your teeth after crying for two hours straight.

Healing is unglamorous. It’s boring. It’s slow.

But it’s also holy.

It’s the decision to keep showing up for yourself, not just when it feels good, but especially when it doesn’t.

Reclaiming What Self-Care Means

Let’s not forget where the concept of self-care really came from. For Black women, for queer communities, for caregivers and activists, self-care was never a luxury. It was a necessity. A radical act of survival in a world that often didn’t make space for their humanity.

Somewhere along the way, that spirit got hijacked—wrapped in branding and sold back to us as a lifestyle.

But the truth remains: self-care isn’t always beautiful. It’s boundaries. It’s bravery. It’s asking for help. It’s saying, I matter, even when the world disagrees.

Questions That Lead Us Back

If you find yourself wondering whether your version of self-care is helping or hurting, try asking:

• What am I trying not to feel right now?

• Is this making me stronger or just quieter?

• What would the future version of me thank me for?

There’s no perfect answer. Only honesty.

Choosing Yourself, For Real

When I look back at the months I spent mistaking indulgence for care, I feel tenderness for that version of me. She was doing her best. She was trying to survive. And sometimes, that meant reaching for comfort wherever she could find it.

But real healing came later. It came in the form of routines, boundaries, rest—not collapse. It came in the form of discipline that felt like love. It came in the form of joy that didn’t fade after the credit card notification hit.

And it came in the form of choosing myself—not once, but every day.

What True Self-Care Sounds Like

If you’re quiet enough, you’ll hear it.

It sounds less like “I deserve a treat,” and more like:

• “I’m going to sleep because my body is tired.”

• “I’m going to speak kindly to myself, even when I mess up.”

• “I’m going to do the hard thing, because I want to grow.”

• “I’m not going to numb this—I’m going to feel it.”

It’s not always poetic. But it’s real.

And real, honest care? That’s what carries us.