Taking Care of Yourself Is the Work

Hustle culture will leave you exhausted, bloated, anxious, and still thinking you’re not doing enough.

We work so hard to build lives we can barely live inside of.

And when we finally break down, we call it a mental health crisis.

We spiral into depression, numb ourselves with distractions, and then—somehow—we get back on the hamster wheel.

Start optimizing again. Start “leveling up” again.

But what if we just…didn’t?

What if caring for yourself—truly caring—is the most radical thing you can do?

The other day, my friend Eden called to congratulate me on starting this blog. That one call meant a lot. I’ve felt so much support since launching this space, and I’m grateful to my friends for showing up for me in ways big and small. This blog is a new creative outlet, and honestly, I never thought of myself as a writer. But here I am—writing anyway.

While we were talking, Eden said something that struck me:

“If you’re not healthy, then what do you have?”

And in that moment, I knew—I needed to write about it.

Because she’s right. If I’m not taking care of myself—my body, my mind, my actual well-being—what am I even working towards?

We live in a world obsessed with more. A society that glorifies overachievement and burnout as if they’re badges of honor. You’re supposed to keep climbing: the job title, the salary, the luxury car, the aesthetic trip, the viral skincare routine. And if you don’t have it all by 30? You’re behind. Lazy. Unmotivated.

For me, that pressure feels complicated. I grew up upper middle class—privileged, yes, but also raised with certain expectations. I thought I’d have more figured out by now. I thought I’d be further along. But that’s not the reality we’re living in. Not with this economy. Not under late-stage capitalism.

It’s disappointing, and I know my parents feel it too. I’m lucky, though—my dad understands. He’s realistic. We’ve had honest conversations about what it takes to survive in today’s world. He’s also told me I should make more sacrifices—live somewhere cheaper, cut back, save more. And I get it. But I also need ease. I need things that make my life feel bearable.

Sometimes that means spending extra money on groceries that save me time. Sometimes that means traveling even when I don’t have it all figured out. Because I don’t want to live in constant deprivation just to say I’m being “responsible.” I don’t want my whole life to feel like a punishment for not being rich enough.

And still, even with the work I put in, it often feels like it’s not enough.

But maybe it is.

Maybe we’re all chasing an impossible ideal—one that demands we overextend ourselves, destroy our bodies, and then feel guilty for needing a break. The worst part? We internalize it. We tell ourselves we’re lazy. That we should be doing more. That we’re falling behind.

Especially those of us who are overachievers. We’re always trying to “improve.” Be more efficient. Optimize every moment of the day. But sometimes the most radical thing you can do is opt out.

Even wellness now feels like another version of hustle culture. Wake up at 5 a.m., cold plunge, sip mushroom matcha, meditate, Pilates, journal, run 5 miles, and post your routine on Instagram Reels all before 8AM. I’m tired of it. I know I’ve played into it too, but I’m trying to unlearn all of that.

Because wellness isn’t a performance. It’s not a checklist. It’s not about proving how disciplined or productive you are.

It’s about coming home to yourself.

It’s about choosing to rest, to nourish, to feel.

It’s about deciding you deserve care even when you haven’t “earned” it.

Find what grounds you.

Eat food that gives you energy.

Surround yourself with people who leave you feeling energized, not drained.

Give yourself permission to do something just because it feels good.

That’s what this blog is for me. A space without approval chains. No passive-aggressive edits. No perfectionism. Just me, putting words into the world—words no one needs to sign off on but me.

So if you’re out there trying to keep up—trying to grow, succeed, survive, heal—I see you. I feel you. And

I want you to know:

You are allowed to rest.

You are allowed to take care of yourself first.

You are allowed to exist without earning it.

You are enough. Even now. Especially now.

And take a breath.

Let that be enough for today.