

Self-care is not about cucumber masks and weekend spas. It’s about being able to stop when everything inside is buzzing with fatigue. It’s about how I brew tea in silence, touching my favorite mug as if it were myself — to remind myself: I’m alive. I choose to get enough sleep, not to be a hero. I air out not only my rooms, but also my thoughts. I learn to say “no” if it destroys me, and “yes” if it heals me. I pay attention to the little things: my skin, my body, my desires. I tenderly care for myself — the way I dream that someone will one day care for me. Because I know: if I don’t love myself, who will be able to do it for real? And how would you care for such a woman — if she were nearby?😌😊