Self care is not a bath bomb
Nor is it a face mask
Nor a sweet-smelling lotion
Nor a cup of herbal tea
Self care is bathing because you lost count of how many days it’s been since you were clean
Self care is catching up on three days of work because you don’t know where your brain went from Wednesday through Friday
Self care is doing laundry when you can’t remember what’s clean and what’s dirty from the massive pile on the floor
Self care is exercising because it’s the only anti-depressant you have
Self care is letting yourself cry for the first time in months when you’ve wanted to almost every day
Self care is making yourself dinner when you’ve gone all day without eating
Self care is taking a deep breath and sorting through what you need to do
It doesn’t come from bath and body works or Lush or Ghiradelli
It isn’t cutesy or fun
It’s relief
It’s responsibility
—because the world doesn’t stop for a warm bath and a good book (via wheresagnes)
(via rudefeminist)
