What Self-Care Actually is (And What It Isn't)
- Kaiana Lewis
- Jul 3
- 4 min read
I remember being a kid and hearing people talk about self-care. Usually, it came up when someone needed a break or was going through a difficult season. I didn't quite know what to make of it, but even then, I noticed something interesting: everyone seemed to define self-care differently.
As I grew up, I realized there were many subconscious messages attached to the term. So many, in fact, that even today I often ask people a simple question: What does self-care mean to you?
(Feel free to comment your answer before continuing. I would genuinely love to know how you would define it.)
I thought this would be the perfect place to begin our series.
Let's start with my first attempt at defining self-care.
Self-care (noun): A physical activity that refreshes your mind.
When I first began outlining this series, that definition felt right. It made sense to me. Self-care was something you did that produced an outcome. Something that felt like a glass of fresh-squeezed lemonade on a hot summer day.
And in some ways, I still think that's true.
After all, self-care can look like a lot of different things.
Painting.
Dancing.
Running.
Weightlifting.
A lavender bubble bath.
A facial.
A movie marathon.
Hot soup while your feet soak in bath salts.
Or simply drinking tea and staring out the window for five quiet minutes.
The activity itself matters less than the outcome.
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Does it refresh your mind?
And by refresh, I don't mean numb.
I think many of us confuse self-care with escapism. We use distractions to avoid pressure, pain, anxiety, or difficult emotions. Those things may provide temporary relief, but they don't necessarily leave us feeling restored.
True self-care doesn't dull.
It doesn't numb.
It doesn't help us run away.
Instead, it soothes.
It creates space.
It releases pressure.
As I continued thinking about my definition, something important was missing. Something beautiful.
Have you ever held something in all day?
Maybe tears.
Maybe frustration.
Maybe grief.
Then you finally got home, where no one could judge you, and you allowed yourself to cry. Or pray. Or sit quietly and journal what you were carrying.
And afterward, you felt lighter.
Not because your emotions disappeared.
Not because you escaped reality.
But because you finally released what you were holding.
That's when I realized my original definition wasn't sitting right with me.
Because self-care isn't just refreshing.
It's releasing.
It gives our emotions a healthy place to go.
It helps us breathe again.
It loosens the tension we carry.
It allows us to stop replaying conversations, stop searching endlessly for solutions, and simply accept what is.
That's when I drafted a second definition.
Self-care (noun): The intentional act of releasing what you carry.
The more I thought about this definition, the more I realized that self-care and faith work beautifully together.
During the first year of opening Earth Garden Flower Shop, I thought self-care was a way to cope with life. I treated it like medicine—something to help me survive until tomorrow.
But over time, as I treated self-care like medicine, I realized that Self-care isn't about getting through life. If it was, then self-care would be a derivative of coping; It would be an action of just surviving, not thriving. And I had accepted the fact that my definition still wasn't complete, because self-care was less about getting through life and more about letting go.
There is a surrender factor directly related to Self-care.
So, I added to the definition.
Self-care (noun): The intentional act of releasing what you carry so that your mind can rest and your soul can breathe.
I experience this often during my devotional time. Sometimes I'll come across a challenging biblical principle—forgiveness, death, humility, or a difficult expression of love.
I'll ask God, "Okay... but how?" Then life presents me with a real situation where I actually have to practice that principle.
Suddenly I feel overwhelmed.
Part of me wants to obey God, while another part wants to hold tightly to my pride, my need for control, or my fear of being wrong.
This is where self-care enters the picture.
I'll run a lavender bubble bath, turn on soft instrumental music, and sit quietly. I'll think about the biblical principle and the situation in front of me.
Then I'll take a deep breath and say: "I trust You, God."
And somehow that breath was easier to take, than I thought it would be.
My grip begins to loosen on the situation.
My pride starts to fade.
The situation feels lighter.
Not because circumstance or the challenge disappeared.
But because I surrendered it.
When I finally step out of the bath, my circumstances haven't changed.
But I have.
I can move forward.
I can let go.
I can trust.
That's what self-care has become for me.
A beautiful companion to faith.
A practice that creates clarity.
A rhythm of release that helps loosen our grip on the things we were never meant to control.
Reflection Questions
What activities leave you feeling refreshed rather than distracted?
When was the last time you felt truly lighter after doing something for yourself? Journal the story.
Are there any pressures, emotions, or expectations you're currently holding onto?
What would it look like to release them instead of control them?
How can you create five minutes this week to slow down, breathe, and surrender?
If you enjoyed this article, I'd love to invite you to join The Green House. It is a space where I help ambitious women recover from the emotional weight of modern life.
Every week you'll receive a 3-minute reset for your nervous system, one short devotional, one practical self-care habit, and one journal question to help you slow down.
Thank you for reading the first installment of this series.
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