take care to be careless
Self-care has become one of those buzzwords that everyone seems to throw around these days. Usually, conjuring up images of spa days, yoga retreats, and other activities that involve, well, other people. But for those of us who prefer the company of our own thoughts to the exhausting presence of others, self-care takes on a different form.
I’m not one for grand gestures or elaborate routines. My approach to self-care is minimalistic, efficient, and, most importantly, solitary. Here’s how I maintain my sanity in a world that insists on being loud and intrusive.
I also avoid noise like the plague. I like to be in environments where there is little to no noise. Whether it’s the constant drone of conversation, the blaring of car horns, or the intrusive buzz of a phone notification, noise is a thief that steals my peace. My first rule of self-care? Embrace the silence. Noise-canceling headphones are my best friend. Pop those babies on, and suddenly the world fades away, leaving me with the sweet sound of nothing. Bliss.
Do nothing. I wholly believe in the philosophy of doing jack-shit. There’s this pervasive idea that you must always be doing something to be worthwhile. I reject that notion. One of my favorite forms of self-care is doing absolutely nothing. No agendas, no plans, just me and my favorite chair. Staring at the ceiling can be surprisingly therapeutic. It’s in these moments of nothingness that I find a strange sort of peace.
As you might be able to tell, I’m pretty introverted. Interacting with people is draining. Small talk is a pointless exercise, and social gatherings are endurance tests masquerading as fun. My self-care routine includes a strict avoidance of unnecessary, and sometimes necessary, human interaction. Groceries? Ordered online. Meetings? Emails suffice. Social events? Politely declined. The less time spent with people, the better.
But when I’m not interacting with people or doing nothing, then I read. Books are the ultimate escape and form of self-care to me. They don’t judge, they don’t talk back, and they certainly don’t demand anything from you. But at the same time, the transport me to countless worlds and realities of incalculable imaginations. My bookshelf is my sanctuary. The library is my home away from home. When the world becomes too much, I dive into a book and lose myself in another world. Fiction, non-fiction, it doesn’t matter—as long as it’s engaging and far removed from my reality.
I have also found that the internet has become a cesspool of noise and nonsense. Constant connectivity is overrated. Unplugging is one of the most effective forms of self-care for myself. Turn off the phone, shut down the computer, and disconnect from the endless stream of information and interaction. The world won’t end if you miss a few memes or status updates. It helps that I don’t really have social media. I mean, I had a Linkedin, but I haven’t checked it since the last time I changed jobs some four years ago.
While spontaneity might be thrilling for some, I find comfort in routine. Knowing exactly what to expect each day is a form of self-care that keeps anxiety at bay. My days are structured, predictable, and wonderfully monotonous. Wake up, coffee, work, read, sleep. Rinse and repeat. It’s the predictability that provides a sense of control in an otherwise chaotic world.
Self-care, for me, isn’t about indulgence or pampering. It’s about preserving my sanity in a world that seems intent on eroding it. It’s about finding pockets of peace and moments of quiet in a noisy, demanding existence. So, while I may not be the poster child for self-care, I’ve found a way to make it work for me. And that, in its own quiet way, is enough.
Fred Aiken Writing 