Email: marlena@selfcareforbeginners.com
When I first began my journey toward healing, I had no idea that self-care would become a way of life rather than something I practiced on weekends or during moments of exhaustion.
Amelia didn’t look like someone who needed help. She smiled softly, greeted everyone politely, and never complained. But when she walked into the room that day, I saw it in her eyes—the kind of exhaustion even the deepest sleep couldn’t touch.
From the outside, she seemed unshakable. Composed. Reliable. The kind of woman others leaned on. She hit every deadline, kept the house running, smiled at the right moments, and showed up for everyone. But no one saw the cracks forming beneath that polished surface.
She stayed late at work without complaint. Came home, tied on an apron, and cooked for her family even when her legs ached. She ran errands for her aging mother, kept every detail of her kids’ lives perfectly managed, and somehow still found the time to check in on friends who needed her.
Tanya stood frozen in the middle of the chaos—dishes stacked high in the sink, her toddler clinging to her leg with tearful urgency, the dryer buzzing insistently in the background. Her inbox was overflowing. Dinner hadn’t even crossed her mind.
Maria always felt exhausted. But it wasn’t her body that was tired. It was something deeper. A silent kind of ache, heavy and constant. On paper, her life looked whole. A steady job. A child she adored. A home filled with love. But inside, she was unraveling.
Sophia stared blankly at her laptop screen, her inbox overflowing, her phone buzzing with school reminders, and dinner still a mystery. She glanced at the clock—7:48 a.m. It was already late.
