The Yoga Class That Made Me Question Everything
The permission problem that's keeping us from taking care of ourselves
Hi friends,
Jennifer had been talking about taking a yoga class for months during our sessions. She was stressed, her back hurt from sitting at a desk all day, and she knew movement would help. But every Tuesday evening when the class started, she found herself staying late at work instead.
"I keep thinking about all the things I could be doing with that hour," she told me. "Meal prep, emails, cleaning the house. It feels selfish to spend time on something just for me."
Finally, last week, she went to the class. And you know what? She felt guilty the entire time.
"I'm lying there in child’s pose," she said, "and all I can think about is the laundry sitting at home and how I should be doing something useful instead of just... lying on a mat."
This is the self-care paradox I see everywhere: we know we need to take care of ourselves, but we feel selfish every time we actually do it.
When caring for yourself feels wrong
Jennifer's guilt about yoga class wasn't really about yoga. It was about a deeper belief that her time and energy should be spent serving others, not herself.
She'd learned early that good women prioritize everyone else's needs first. That taking time for yourself is indulgent. That self-care is something you do only after everyone else is taken care of—which, for most of us, is never.
"I feel like if I'm taking care of myself, I'm being neglectful of everyone else," she said. "Like there's only so much care to go around, and if I use some on me, there's less for the people who need it."
This is what I call scarcity thinking about care: the belief that taking care of yourself means there's less care available for others.
But here's what Jennifer was missing: you can't pour from an empty cup.
The martyr trap
Jennifer had fallen into what I see with so many women: the idea that self-sacrifice equals virtue. That the more you neglect your own needs, the better person you are.
She was proud of working through lunch, staying late to help colleagues, skipping workouts to handle family responsibilities. She wore her exhaustion like a badge of honor.
But what was the actual result of all this self-neglect? Jennifer was irritable with her family, unfocused at work, and constantly getting sick because her immune system was shot from stress.
As I wrote about in my newsletter on prioritizing others vs. self-care, this pattern is incredibly common—and incredibly damaging. We've been taught that taking care of ourselves is selfish, when actually neglecting ourselves serves no one.
"I realized I was trying to be a good person by running myself into the ground," she said. "But I wasn't actually showing up well for anyone, including myself."
The reframe that changed everything
I asked Jennifer to consider a different perspective: What if taking care of yourself was actually the most generous thing you could do?
When she was rested, she had patience for her family's needs. When she wasn't stressed, she could be fully present in conversations. When she felt good physically, she had energy to help others.
"Self-care isn't selfish," I told her. "Neglecting yourself is selfish, because it means everyone else has to deal with the depleted, resentful version of you."
What real self-care looks like
Jennifer started small. One yoga class a week. Fifteen minutes of reading before bed. Taking actual lunch breaks instead of eating at her desk.
"I felt guilty at first," she said. "But then I noticed I was sleeping better. I had more energy. I was less snappy with my kids."
Her family didn't suffer because she was taking better care of herself. They benefited from it.
"I realized I'd been so busy being needed that I forgot to make sure I was actually useful," she said.
The permission you've been waiting for
Here's what I want you to know: You don't need to earn self-care by being perfect at caring for everyone else first.
You don't need to wait until everyone else's needs are met. You don't need to feel guilty about taking time for activities that restore you. You don't need to justify why you deserve care.
You deserve care because you're human. Period.
Taking that yoga class, getting enough sleep, saying no to obligations that drain you, spending time on hobbies that bring you joy—these aren't luxuries. They're necessities.
What self-care actually is
Real self-care isn't bubble baths and face masks (though those can be nice). It's:
Setting boundaries that protect your energy. Getting enough sleep so you can function well. Moving your body in ways that feel good. Eating food that nourishes you. Taking breaks before you're completely depleted.
It's treating yourself with the same kindness you show others. It's recognizing that you can't take care of anyone else well if you're not taking care of yourself.
What I'm wondering
Do you struggle with feeling selfish when you prioritize your own needs? Do you find yourself putting everyone else first and wondering why you're always exhausted?
Hit reply and tell me. I think there are a lot of us who've been taught that self-care is indulgent when actually it's essential.
What would change if you truly believed that taking care of yourself was part of taking care of others?
Jennifer is learning that she can be a caring person who also cares for herself. That she can be generous with others and generous with herself. That self-care isn't selfish—it's sustainable.
You're allowed to take up space. You're allowed to have needs. You're allowed to prioritize your wellbeing without apologizing for it.
The people who truly love you want you to take care of yourself. And the people who don't? Maybe their opinion isn't the one you should be organizing your life around.
Talk to you soon,
Mary
Thank you for being part of this community. If these stories resonate, you're exactly where you're supposed to be. Taking care of yourself isn't selfish—it's necessary.
