Have you ever seen an ad with someone standing barefoot in the grass, simply breathing in the fresh air and connecting with the world around them? Probably not. That’s because no company will pay for it without selling anything! But how often do you see ads promising happiness through an expensive getaway, a luxury meal, or a trendy wellness product? All the time.
This contrast came to mind during a recent therapy session with a patient. Edward came into session completely drained—not just from recovering after being sick, but from carrying the weight of everything at once: marriage tension, communication struggles, parenting responsibilities, and job demands. The stress had built up over time, and now, even small conversations with his wife sparked defensiveness and misinterpretation.
Throughout the session, he repeated these two sentiments frequently: feeling exhausted and overwhelmed, as if they were everything that consumed him every day—as if he were completely helpless. So, I asked him how he had been taking care of himself. His answer was simple and honest.
Dr. Ferrer: “How do you take care of yourself when everything feels overwhelming?”
Edward: “About two weeks ago, I went on a short vacation by myself at Joshua Tree. I dreaded driving back home. But since then, I’ve not done anything.
Dr. Ferrer: Besides all the responsibilities you take care of, what other activities do you do that are entirely for yourself?
Edward: Well, I guess I take a nap while my daughter is at daycare or when she’s also asleep. I take a shower and that feel refreshing. I play my drums or the guiatar, but I haven’t done that in a while.”
Me: “That’s good. Did any of those moments feel helpful to you?”
Edward: “They did… but I didn’t think of them as self-care.”
That last line stuck with me. He was doing things that clearly helped him cope—but he didn’t label them as self-care. Because of that, they didn’t feel like they counted. As we kept talking, three key ideas came into focus—ideas that shaped my observation, that I processed with him, and that I want to share with you in this article.
Spending on Self-Care
In American culture, it seems that self-care has often been co-opted by consumerism, where it’s equated with indulgent lifestyle purchases. This commodification of care can obscure the original intention of self-care, especially for individuals under chronic stress, caregiving burdens, or systemic pressures.
In their analysis of wellness culture, Johnston and Goodman (2015) argue that contemporary self-care is deeply intertwined with neoliberal ideologies, where wellbeing is viewed as an individual’s responsibility and proof of productivity—even in rest. Spending money on oneself becomes the legitimized way to signal that one is “doing it right.” This mindset can inadvertently devalue simple but biologically and emotionally restorative practices—like grounding, napping, breathing, or pausing—because they don’t come with a receipt.
Furthermore, psychologist Dr. Laurie Santos, who teaches Yale’s popular “Science of Well-Being” course, points out that happiness and wellbeing are not strongly correlated with material consumption, despite what marketing suggests. Her course—and its evidence-based framework—stresses the impact of gratitude, mindfulness, and social connection, which cost nothing but offer substantial returns on wellbeing (Santos, 2019).
When self-care is linked to cost, we miss out on the value of the care we already give ourselves for free. Consequently, we end the day thinking we didn’t do anything for ourselves, even if we did. Edward had taken care of himself in real, practical ways, but he equated self-care with the solo camping trip he took a few weeks ago—something that clearly had cost him. Since returning, he was just experiencing exhaustion because he was only paying attention to the demands of his responsibilities. This connects with what psychologists call the negativity bias—the brain’s habit of focusing more on what’s wrong than what’s right (Baumeister et al., 2001). If we fail to notice the good we’re doing for ourselves, we’re left with the false impression that we’re only surviving, not living or being.
Edward shared that when he rests—especially in the middle of the day—he sometimes feels lazy. Even if he’s tired. Even if he’s earned that break. Even if he needs it. This shame around rest is deeply rooted in our culture. In America, rest often feels like something we have to justify. Productivity is praised. Doing nothing is questioned. Dr. Laurie Santos, who teaches The Science of Well-Being at Yale University, reminds us that real wellbeing comes from basic human needs—sleep, mindfulness, connection—not performance or image (Santos, 2019). But when rest makes us feel guilty, it becomes harder to actually receive its benefits.
Research shows that simple, accessible practices—gratitude, movement, rest, connection—have the strongest effects on mental health. We don’t need more stuff. We need more space to notice the care we already give ourselves, and to let it be enough.
Consider This
Edward’s small acts—lying down, playing music, taking a shower—were self-care. But he didn’t recognize them as such, so he kept feeling like he hadn’t done anything for himself. That’s what I want us to shift.
You are likely already doing things that care for your body and mind. But if you don’t let them count, they’ll feel invisible. And when self-care feels invisible, burnout becomes inevitable. You don’t need a plane ticket to care for yourself. You don’t need a receipt. You need rest. You need breath. You need moments that nourish you, even if no one else sees them. Especially if no one else sees them.
So today, when you brush your teeth slowly, or rest your eyes for a minute, or simply lie in silence for a few breaths—say to yourself, this is self-care. But, what other activities can you engage in today that you give attention to and is free—meaning, you don’t have to tap your credit card or smart watch to obtain the product or services you think will make you feel well?
Read more from Rizaldy R. Ferrer, Ph.D.
References
Baumeister, R. F., Bratslavsky, E., Finkenauer, C., & Vohs, K. D. (2001). Bad is stronger than good. Review of General Psychology, 5(4), 323–370. https://doi.org/10.1037/1089-2680.5.4.323
Johnston, J., & Goodman, M. K. (2015). Spectacular foodscapes: Food celebrities and the politics of lifestyle mediation in an age of inequality. Food, Culture & Society, 18(2), 205–222. https://doi.org/10.1080/15528014.2015.1023766
Santos, L. (2019). The Science of Well-Being [Online course]. Yale University. https://www.coursera.org/learn/the-science-of-well-being.
Disclaimer: The information provided in this newsletter is not intended to be a substitute for professional medical or mental health advice. If you are experiencing any mental health issues, please seek professional help. The author of this blog is not liable for any damages or injuries that may result from the use of the information provided here.
When applicable, the names, gender identification, location and/or other identifiable characteristics have been modified to maintain privacy and confidentiality; whilst, still maintaining the integrity of their stories and narratives.
