Why Self-Love Isn't Earned

There’s a version of self-love that gets talked about a lot.

The kind that shows up as indulgence, self-care days, or treating yourself once you’ve done enough.

But that’s not what most women I work with are struggling with.

They’re struggling with something quieter.

They’re kind.
They’re capable.
They’re faithful and responsible.

And they’ve learned—often without realizing it—to override themselves in the name of discipline, productivity, or doing the right thing.

Self-love, for them, doesn’t feel absent.
It feels postponed.

“I’ll rest later.”
“I can handle this.”
“It’s just a busy season.”

Until later never quite comes.

When “Pushing Through” Becomes the Default

Many of the women I work with are incredibly capable.

They keep promises.
They show up.
They carry responsibility with quiet competence.

They also tend to say things like:

• “It’s just a busy season.”

• “Once this settles down, I’ll rest.”

• “Other people have it harder.”

• “I can handle it.”

And most of the time, they can. I wrote about this is in "When You're doing too much but don't know how to slow down".

But over time, something subtle happens.

The body starts whispering…
Then nudging…
Then tapping louder.

Fatigue that doesn’t lift with sleep.
Irritability you don’t recognize as yourself.
A sense of being “off” that you can’t quite name.

Not because you’re failing—but because you’ve stopped listening.

Care Isn’t Indulgence. It’s Maintenance.

Somewhere along the way, many women absorbed the belief that care must be earned.

That rest is a reward.
That tending to yourself is optional.
That listening can wait.

But what if care is not indulgence at all?

What if it’s maintenance—like fueling a car or tending a garden?

Not something you do when things break…
But something you do so they don’t.

Your nervous system works the same way.

Small, consistent moments of regulation—sleep boundaries, transitions between roles, honest pauses—keep your body out of constant emergency mode.

This isn’t about bubble baths or disappearing from your life.

It’s about staying inhabited while you live it. You can read more in "Joy as a productivity tool".

Regulation vs. Numbing

There’s a difference between practices that restore you and habits that simply help you cope.

Both might look the same on the outside.

A walk.
Scrolling.
Food.
Rest.

The difference isn’t the behavior—it’s the relationship.

One question can help you tell the difference:

Do I feel more resourced after this… or just temporarily distracted?

Regulation brings you back to yourself.
Numbing helps you avoid what’s asking to be heard.

And here’s the important part: guilt is often the signal—not the solution.

If something leaves you feeling disconnected, rushed, or vaguely ashamed, it’s worth getting curious—not judgmental.

Listening Is an Act of Stewardship

For women of faith, this can feel especially complicated.

Many were taught—explicitly or implicitly—that rest is weakness, emotions are distractions, and needing support means you’re not trusting God enough.

But Scripture tells a different story.

Our worth is not earned.
Our limits are not moral failures.
And rest was designed as part of faithful living—not a deviation from it.

Listening to your body doesn’t mean you trust God less.

It may mean you’re finally trusting Him with the truth of where you are.

A Gentle Practice for This Week

Nothing dramatic. Nothing disruptive.

Just this:

Once a day, pause and ask:

• What do I need right now?

• What is my body asking for?

• Am I listening—or overriding?

You don’t have to act immediately.
You don’t have to fix anything.

Awareness comes before change.

If This Is Stirring Something…

If you’re realizing you’ve been strong for a long time—and quietly exhausted—please hear this:

You don’t have to figure this out alone.

Learning how to listen to yourself without guilt or overthinking is a skill. One that can be practiced with support.

If you want help discerning what you actually need right now, I’d love to invite you into a 15-minute, no-pressure conversation.

Not to solve everything.
Just to listen—together.

You don’t have to earn care.
It’s part of the proper care and feeding of you.