A hedonist lifestyle – eating chocolate, drinking wine, taking bubble baths and watching soap operas all day  – is what many people imagine when they hear the words “self-care.”

And yet self-care is not an invitation to overindulge. It’s not giving ourselves whatever we want, when we want it. Neither is it a magic wand, a way to wave away life’s inevitable pain. It’s not compulsive:  a way to shelter ourselves from making hard choices. Neither is it excessive, giving ourselves too much of something, whether it be food, things, or idleness.

True self-care is balanced. Yes, sometimes it brings pleasure:   fabulous shoes can be part of the picture. But self-care may also bring pain:  sitting with my grief and sadness and letting it run its course. Sometimes self-care means telling myself no, or doing something that I’d rather not:  choosing broccoli over brownies.

And yet how do you know when it’s appropriate to indulge, and when it’s time to say, “Not now?”

In my experience, the only way to find your balance point – caring for yourself in tandem with caring for the people you love – is by seesawing, going back and forth until you find your center. My starting point was giving too much to others (at my own expense); then, when I began factoring my needs into the equation, I tipped too far in the other direction, acting like a spoiled brat at times: I don’t have to do it if I don’t want to. (While I look back on those years as “finding my voice,” my husband reminds me, “You often acted like a real jerk.”)

I think this fear of moving from one extreme to the other, from self-denial to self-absorption, is what often prevents women from trying to care for themselves. Balance seems so elusive. For a year, I asked everyone I knew this question:  How can you tell if, say, your desire for a new sweater comes from your spirit, a place of self-care, or from your ego, a place of endless wanting? What about weight loss? When do you lose weight, when do you accept your body as it is? When do you say, “No,” to family or community demands on your time, and when do you roll up your sleeves and pitch in?

There isn’t a pat answer to these questions. For me or you. And the only way to find answers is to live them, as Rilke says,  to experiment, test the waters, and gauge how you feel.

Here are some things that help me separate self-care from overindulgence:

1. What do I really need? Our inner wisdom – the higher place from which we love ourselves – knows what we need. Sometimes our mind gets in the way, confusing needs with wants. To find the difference, tap below the surface. Get quiet and ask yourself:  What’s really bothering you? What’s underneath the feeling of wanting to eat, to get out of the house, to move, to veg out and watch TV? Meet the deep need underneath the surface longing,  and you’ll quiet the pull for the food, the shopping, or the escape.

2. What do others need? Self-care does take others’ needs into account. This is primarily because our relationships, and their ensuing gift of intimacy and connection, is one of life’s greatest rewards. It’s what we all want:   to love, and be loved. So choosing things that help me and hurt my relationships doesn’t feel like self-care:  it feels icky. For example, if I skipped my daughter’s dance recital for a trip to the movies, this wouldn’t feel good to me, because I’m hurting her by being selfish.

3. Sometimes, there’s compromise. But what about murkier waters:  what about choosing between reading my son a story or having some quiet time to myself on a rainy afternoon? As women, we have a limited, finite amount of time, energy and money. This means picking and choosing; sometimes saying no to our wants and desires; sometimes saying yes. This means that we also say yes and no to others’ wants and desires. I try and look at the overall picture:  if it’s been a while since my son and I have snuggled up with a good book, I’ll go for cuddle time. But if I’m feeling inside out and need space, I can recognize that this isn’t the time to read to my son:  I’m not mentally available to him.

4. Do I have healthy boundaries? Structure greatly helps me. In this way, I stay in balance, where I’m not indulging myself too much, or too little. So I structure eating times for myself so that I don’t get too hungry and overeat, as well as healthy treat times (popcorn with a movie, for example.) I structure my days so that I have time for fun as well as for my responsibilities. (I do this by capping what I “need” to accomplish on a given day to 3 things outside of my normal, day to day routine.) I give myself a monthly allowance so that I have fun-money for treats without sacrificing my other financial
goals of saving for the future, being debt free, and paying for my family’s needs.

5. What would I do for my children? Looking at my behavior from the perspective of a loving, caring, supportive parent – which I’m trying to be, to myself – helps clarify whether I’m acting out of kindness, rigidity (being too hard on myself), or leniency (being too easy on myself.) For example, when I gain weight and don’t buy myself clothing in my larger size (because, of course, I intend to eventually lose it), I can ask myself:  would I force a child to wear too-small clothes? Then I can see my behavior for what it is – punishment – and change.

True self-care creates a healthy cycle of reciprocal benefits. It gives us peace of mind, resilience, and comfort in facing life’s challenges. It soothes our internal barometer, so we aren’t tossed and turned so much by the forces of life, finding happiness where we are. This peace then flows outward, to others. As Anne Frank said, “Whoever is happy will make others happy too.”