Focus on Yourself: 3 Signs You’re Giving Too Much & What to Do About It Right Now

KEYPOINTS

• 01

  Real self-care is about agency, not bubble baths

  Psychiatrist Dr. Pooja Lakshmin, author of Real Self-Care, says the wellness industry has given us 'methods and tools but not principles or perspective.' Many of her patients have the meditation app and yoga membership but feel burned out and blame themselves. She points to structural pressures: no federally mandated paid parental leave, half of American workers unable to take a paid sick day, widespread childcare deserts, and parents of two paying about 10% of income for childcare. A juice cleanse won't fix that. She defines agency as the ability to solve problems and take meaningful action even within constraints.

• 02

  Self-care began as a word about choice

  Lakshmin traces two roots to the 1950s and '60s: Audre Lorde's social-justice framing of self-care as self-preservation, and psychiatry's use of the term for the small choices patients on locked units could still make, such as what to wear, eat or do for exercise. Both point back to agency.

• 03

  It's not about the thing; it's the inner work before it

  Picture two people in the same yoga class. One is consumed by guilt about homework and cupcakes, compares herself with the woman in a headstand, and doesn't know why she's there. The other negotiated weekend time with her partner (yoga Saturday, his run Sunday) and knows what yoga gives her. Lakshmin's line: 'Your yoga class is only as powerful as the boundaries you've set beforehand.' Real self-care is a verb, not a noun.

• 04

  A boundary is a pause, with three options: yes, no or negotiate

  On her first day running a women's mental health clinic at George Washington University in 2016, Lakshmin's mentor advised her not to answer her office phone. Let it go to voicemail, decide, then respond. Insurance paperwork can wait until day's end; a patient who might crash her car without her ADHD medication gets an immediate refill. Saying no always has a cost and isn't available to everyone, but anyone can pause.

• 05

  Five questions to gauge your boundaries

  Do I feel motivated, or overwhelmed or apathetic? Are particular people or situations constantly draining me? Do I set aside regular time to rest, or always grit my teeth and push through? Do I ask for help, and can I receive it? Am I making time for what matters to me, not my kids, my partner or society? Lakshmin says nearly everyone answers poorly at times, and naming it is powerful.

• 06

  Expect 'little-b' burnout and catch it early

  Treating burnout as a catastrophe breeds denial until you land in the hospital, lose a job or crash a car. Lakshmin suggests accepting that we all burn out and noticing small burnout sooner. Type A, perfectionist people cycle through it more often; she recalibrates about every six months, and says it gets easier each time. Burnout and weak boundaries feed each other, partly through a cynical sense that nothing you do matters.

• 07

  Three warning signs you lack boundaries

  First, you're constantly angry and irritable while believing you're selfless, like the mom who stays up wrapping gifts on Christmas Eve and is a terror the next morning. Second, you expect gratitude for things nobody asked for and resent not getting it. Third, you feel like you're managing your life instead of living it, and fantasize about escaping to a retreat, a beach or, in her case, a vegetable farm.

• 08

  Start with tiny, low-stakes boundaries; family is advanced

  Family boundaries are hardest because of decades of history. Begin with remedial steps, such as sitting down to eat lunch away from your computer. One healthcare-worker patient went eight-hour shifts without food or water, so the first boundary was drinking water at the nurses' station every hour. Small wins build confidence and let you gauge how your boss and coworkers react before risking more.

• 09

  Guilt is a passing sushi plate, not a moral compass

  Lakshmin believes guilt is largely internalized from a culture that values productivity, status and, for women, caretaking. Her acceptance and commitment therapy tool: your mind is a sushi chef and thoughts are plates on a conveyor belt. You don't have to grab the ones you dislike (hers is shrimp with the head on); let them pass. The goal is tolerating guilt, which softens to a whisper with practice. Selfishness is usually black-and-white thinking; aim to include your preference in perhaps one in ten decisions.