Introduction: The Myth of Rest as the Only Remedy
The concept of self-care has become synonymous with rest—long baths, candles, journaling, unplugging, doing nothing. While rest is essential, especially in a culture that often glorifies burnout, we sometimes forget that self-care can also mean action. This story unfolds during one of the most stressful periods of my academic journey—when I had to defend a thesis to graduate with my bachelor’s degree in English. And yes, if you’re an academic reading this and thinking, “That’s insane,” you’re not wrong. But that’s what training at an HBCU can look like—demanding, rigorous, and deeply transformative.
The Breaking Point: Panic in the Middle of the Grind
One night, deeply behind on my thesis, I felt the early signs of what I now recognize as a panic attack. I began spiraling—not just about the work I hadn’t done, but about what it said about me. Was I incapable? Was I lazy? Was I simply not enough for the task? It wasn’t just about missing a deadline. It was about fearing that I didn’t belong, that maybe this whole thing was a mistake. I had only recently learned the term self-care, and I clung to it like a lifeline. Maybe, I thought, I needed to walk away. Maybe I needed sleep. A snack. A breath.
The Turning Point: A Reframing of Self-Care
In my moment of unraveling, I expressed my frustration to someone I trusted. I said something like, “Maybe I just need some self-care,” hoping for permission to step away. Instead, she looked at me and said, “Sometimes self-care is writing a page.” That response stunned me. Not because it was dismissive—it wasn’t—but because it was exactly what I needed to hear. She wasn’t telling me to push through exhaustion blindly. She was reframing the panic: not as a signal to stop entirely, but as a call to reengage with intention. Maybe the weight I was carrying was from not writing. Maybe showing up for myself didn’t mean quitting. It meant doing what I had been avoiding.
The Present Moment: Recognizing the Pattern Again
Recently, I found myself in the same spiral—different content, different stakes, but the same sense of dread and inertia. Again, I thought, “Maybe I just need some…” And again, instead of walking away, I sat down and began drafting. Immediately, the tightness in my chest began to loosen. It wasn’t magical. The work didn’t finish itself. But the act of beginning—of choosing to try—was the thing that shifted everything.
Summary: The Hidden Face of Self-Care
This isn’t a rallying cry to grind harder. It’s not a message about pushing through burnout. It’s a reminder that self-care isn’t one-size-fits-all. Sometimes rest is the answer. Sometimes, it’s hydration or a nap. But other times, self-care is sitting with your fear, opening the document, and writing the page. Not because you’re supposed to—but because you deserve to get out of your own way.
Conclusion: Showing Up Is Loving Yourself
Avoidance often masquerades as rest. But true self-care asks us to listen closely: Is your body crying for sleep, or is your spirit begging for progress? Only you know the answer. For me, in that moment, the kindest thing I could do was to stop spiraling and start writing. That was self-care. That was healing. That was love.