I remember a season when I was running on empty. I was giving everything to my family, my work, my commitments—and leaving nothing for myself. So I did what all the glossy magazines and well-meaning Instagram posts told me to do: I practiced “self-care.” I took long baths. I bought the expensive face cream. I ate the extra slice of cake because, hey, I’d earned it. But instead of feeling refreshed, I felt heavier. More drained. Something wasn’t adding up, and it took me a while to figure out that what I was calling self-care was really just self-indulgence wearing a pretty mask.
If you’ve ever finished your “me time” feeling emptier than when you started, you’re not broken. You’re just bumping into a distinction that a lot of us miss. Let’s talk about it honestly—no guilt trips, no impossible standards. Just a real conversation about what actually fills us up versus what numbs us for a little while.
What Self-Care Actually Means
Self-care is the quiet, often unglamorous work of tending to your whole person—body, mind, and spirit—in a way that restores and strengthens you. It’s not about escaping your life. It’s about showing up for it more fully. Think of it as stewardship. You’re taking care of the life you’ve been given so you can live it with more patience, presence, and peace.
For me, real self-care looks like going to bed at 9:30 when I’m exhausted, even though the next episode of my favorite show is calling my name. It’s saying no to a coffee date because my soul is begging for quiet. It’s taking a walk not to burn off calories, but to clear my head and pray. None of this is Instagram-worthy. Sometimes it’s just hard. But afterward, I feel more like myself—more grounded, more grateful, less frayed around the edges.
The Heart of Self-Care: Discipline and Delight
Here’s something that took me years to learn: genuine self-care often involves discipline. It’s not all bubble baths and chocolate. Sometimes it’s sitting down to make a budget so money stress doesn’t keep you up at night. It’s chopping vegetables on a Sunday afternoon so you actually eat something green during the week. It’s going to therapy to work through old wounds instead of numbing them with another glass of wine. These things take effort, but they pay off in freedom.
And yet, self-care also makes room for delight. God created us for joy, and part of caring for ourselves is receiving the good gifts He puts in front of us. For me, that might be an afternoon sprawled in the hammock with a novel, or a long phone call with a friend who makes me laugh until my stomach hurts. The difference is that these delights don’t leave a hangover—of guilt, exhaustion, or regret. They refill my tank instead of draining it further.
What Self-Indulgence Looks Like
Self-indulgence is the pursuit of pleasure without much thought for the consequences. It’s the quick fix, the easy escape, the treat that slowly becomes a crutch. And here’s the sneaky part: it almost always shows up wearing the language of self-care. It whispers, “You deserve this,” but what it really means is, “You deserve to check out for a while.”
I’ve fallen into this trap more times than I can count. After a hard day, I’d tell myself I needed a break, so I’d scroll social media for two hours. But instead of feeling rested, I’d feel comparison creeping in, or frustration over the time I’d lost. Or I’d “treat myself” to an online shopping spree, only to feel a knot in my stomach when the credit card bill arrived. The indulgence felt good for a moment, but it stole peace from my future self.
The Telltale Signs of Self-Indulgence
How can you tell if you’re slipping into self-indulgence? Ask yourself a few honest questions. Does this activity leave me feeling restored, or just numbed? Am I avoiding something I need to face? Will I feel good about this choice tomorrow morning? If the answers lean toward numbness, avoidance, or regret, you might be indulging rather than caring.
Self-indulgence often shows up in excess: binge-watching to the point of exhaustion, eating past fullness, spending beyond your means, or isolating yourself in ways that deepen loneliness. It’s not that these activities are inherently wrong. A movie marathon can be a delightful way to rest. A piece of cake can be a celebration. But when they become patterns that undermine your well-being, they’ve crossed the line.
The Root of the Confusion
Why do we so easily confuse the two? I think it’s because both self-care and self-indulgence start with a legitimate need. You’re tired, stressed, sad, or overwhelmed. You genuinely need comfort and rest. The difference lies in how you meet that need. Self-care addresses the root; self-indulgence numbs the symptom.
For years, I reached for food when I was emotionally drained. I wasn’t hungry; I was lonely or anxious. The temporary comfort of a sugary snack felt like self-care, but it never solved the real problem. True self-care meant learning to sit with those uncomfortable feelings, to bring them to God in prayer, to call a friend, or to journal. It was harder in the moment, but it brought lasting relief.
The Role of Guilt and Shame
Another clue is the presence of guilt. Self-care rarely leaves you feeling guilty because it aligns with your values. Self-indulgence, on the other hand, often brings a shadow of shame. You might feel like you’ve let yourself down, or that you’ve been a poor steward of your time, body, or resources. That guilt isn’t meant to condemn you—it’s a signal that something needs to change.
I’ve learned to pay attention to that signal without letting it crush me. When I notice guilt after a “self-care” activity, I get curious instead of critical. What was I trying to escape? What did I really need? That curiosity leads me back to true care.
Practical Ways to Practice True Self-Care
So how do we build a life of genuine self-care? It starts with small, intentional choices. Here are some practices that have transformed my daily life:
1. Create a Rhythm of Rest
Rest isn’t just sleep, though sleep is foundational. Rest includes moments of stillness throughout your day. For me, that means a quiet cup of coffee before the kids wake up, a five-minute breathing exercise between tasks, or a Sabbath practice on Sundays. These rhythms remind my body and soul that I don’t have to be in constant motion.
2. Nourish Your Body with Kindness
I used to approach food and exercise with an all-or-nothing mentality. Either I was “being good” with strict diets and intense workouts, or I was “treating myself” with junk food and laziness. Neither was self-care. Now I aim for the middle ground: moving my body in ways I enjoy, eating foods that make me feel energized, and allowing treats without guilt. It’s a conversation with my body, not a war.
3. Guard Your Mental Space
What we allow into our minds shapes our inner world. Self-care means being selective about media, conversations, and even the thoughts we entertain. I’ve had to set boundaries around news consumption and social media scrolling. I’ve also learned to replace anxious thoughts with truth—Scripture, affirmations, or simply a deep breath and a prayer.
4. Invest in Relationships That Fill You
Isolation can feel like self-care when you’re overwhelmed, but too much solitude can become self-indulgence. True care includes connection. I make time for friends who encourage my faith, who listen well, and who aren’t afraid to speak truth into my life. These relationships are a lifeline.
5. Say No to Say Yes
Every time you say no to something that drains you, you’re saying yes to something that matters. This is one of the hardest lessons for people-pleasers like me. But I’ve found that when I decline commitments out of a desire to steward my energy well, I’m more present for the things I do say yes to—my family, my writing, my community.
When Self-Indulgence Tries to Sneak Back In
Even with the best intentions, self-indulgence can creep back in. Life gets hard, and the quick fix is tempting. I’ve learned to give myself grace in those moments. One slip doesn’t define you. The goal isn’t perfection; it’s progress. When I catch myself in a pattern of indulgence, I pause and reset. I ask God to help me see what I really need, and I take one small step toward true care.
Sometimes that step is as simple as drinking a glass of water instead of reaching for another soda. Sometimes it’s turning off the TV and opening my Bible. Sometimes it’s admitting I need help and picking up the phone. Each small choice builds momentum toward a life that feels whole.
Self-Care as an Act of Worship
This might be the most important shift I’ve made: seeing self-care as part of my worship. When I care for my body, I’m honoring the temple God gave me. When I rest, I’m trusting that He sustains the world without my constant striving. When I set boundaries, I’m acknowledging that my worth isn’t tied to my productivity. Self-care becomes a way of saying, “Thank You for this life. I want to steward it well.”
Self-indulgence, in contrast, often comes from a place of entitlement or escape. It says, “I deserve this because life is hard,” without asking whether the choice leads to life or just temporary relief. True self-care asks, “What will help me live the life God has for me?”
Frequently Asked Questions
Is it ever okay to indulge?
Absolutely. A life without any indulgence would be rigid and joyless. The key is intention and moderation. Enjoying a decadent dessert on your birthday or taking a spontaneous day off to explore a new city can be wonderful. The problem arises when indulgence becomes your default response to stress or when it consistently undermines your well-being. Ask yourself: Is this a celebration or an escape? The answer will guide you.
How do I know if my self-care routine is actually working?
Check the fruit. After a week or two of your routine, do you feel more patient, more energized, more at peace? Or do you feel more drained, more anxious, more disconnected? True self-care produces good fruit over time. If you’re not seeing that, it might be time to reevaluate. Also, pay attention to your relationships. Are you more present with your loved ones? That’s a strong indicator that your self-care is on the right track.
What if I don’t have time for self-care?
I used to say this all the time. But I’ve learned that self-care doesn’t have to take hours. It can be woven into your existing day. A deep breath while waiting in the carpool line. A prayer of gratitude while washing dishes. Choosing water over a third cup of coffee. These micro-moments add up. And when you start small, you often find that you actually do have time for more—because you’re less depleted. Self-care creates time by giving you the energy to use your time well.
Can self-care include things like shopping or watching TV?
Yes, but with boundaries. If you set a budget for a shopping trip and stick to it, and the experience leaves you feeling refreshed rather than guilty, it can be a form of self-care. Similarly, watching a favorite show for an hour to unwind can be restful. The danger is when these activities become mindless or excessive. Check your motives and set limits. If you can’t stick to your own limits, that’s a sign the activity might be more indulgence than care.
A Gentle Invitation
If you’re reading this and feeling a little convicted, please don’t hear condemnation. I’m writing this as someone who still struggles to get the balance right. Just last week, I stayed up too late scrolling my phone and woke up groggy and irritable. But instead of beating myself up, I asked what I really needed—rest, not distraction—and I made a plan to go to bed earlier the next night. That’s the heart of this message: not perfection, but a gentle turning back toward what truly cares for you.
I want to invite you to take one small step today. Maybe it’s drinking a glass of water, taking a five-minute walk, or simply pausing to ask yourself, “What do I really need right now?” That question, asked with kindness, can be the beginning of a self-care practice that changes everything.
You are worth caring for. Not because of what you do or how you look, but because you are a beloved creation. And caring for yourself isn’t selfish—it’s sacred. Let’s learn together to choose the kind of care that fills us up, so we can pour out love from a place of abundance, not emptiness.
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