Let’s be honest: sometimes self-care feels impossible.

Not because you don’t want to take care of yourself, but because you're too frazzled to know where to begin. Your brain is scattered, your body’s buzzing, and everything you should do feels like just another thing to fail at.

That’s what this post is for.

Not the moments when you're calm and ready for your best nourishing practices, but the moments when you’re too overwhelmed to function, when self-care feels more like a chore than a relief.

Because I’ve been there. And I know that when you’re in that state, you don’t need more rules. You need permission to go gently. To do less. And to find your way back to yourself one small moment at a time.

What Frazzled Feels Like (In Case You’re Not Sure)

Frazzled, for me, feels like this:

• My mind is racing, but I can’t land on a thought.

• I feel clumsy, restless, almost jittery, but like I have nowhere to go.

• I can’t stop moving, but I’m too overwhelmed to focus.

• I’m both overstimulated and completely flat.

It’s not just mental. It’s physical. My nervous system is lit up like a switchboard, and nothing feels like it will help.

And in those moments, the usual self-care advice—take a bath, go journal, do a yoga class—feels like trying to hike up a mountain in flip-flops.

When Self-Care Becomes Another “Should”

There were times I pushed through those moments with the “just do it anyway” mindset. But I’d end up feeling even more drained.

Because even my self-care was rooted in pressure.

I took yoga and meditation too seriously. I tried to do them “perfectly.” But I had stripped the joy out of them. I wasn’t allowed to just be myself in those practices. And so of course I resisted them.

Eventually, I had to pause and ask myself: what would actually feel refreshing? Not what Instagram says is self-care. Not what a list says I should do. What would actually feel like a little bit of relief?

What I Wish Someone Had Told Me

Self-care isn’t about doing the “right” thing. It’s about doing the real thing—the one that gives you even a tiny drop of relief.

I wish someone had told me:

• Self-care can be fun. It can be playful. It doesn’t have to be serious.

• You’re allowed to feel refreshed by something “small” or “silly.”

• You don’t have to force yourself into rituals that feel performative.

• Two minutes of genuine presence can do more than an hour of forced stillness.

What Actually Helped Me When I Was Too Frazzled

Here’s what worked when I couldn’t bring myself to do anything structured or effortful:

• Nature. I’d leave my phone behind and go outside. I’d listen to the birds, feel the wind, or watch the clouds move. If it was especially windy, I’d imagine the wind was sweeping away the stress.

• Breathing with a long release. Not box breathing. Not any technique. Just a deep breath in… and a slow, soft exhale out. That helped me reset when I felt stuck in chaos.

• Staring at the ceiling. Truly. Lying on my bed and letting my gaze soften. Dozing if I needed to. Letting my body be still, even if my mind wasn’t.

• Walking. If I had been inside too long or stuck in my room, movement helped break the spell. Just walking around the block helped clear the static in my system.

• Softening the moment. I’d drink my tea slowly. Open a window. Watch light moving through the leaves. Tiny things. But they made a difference.

From Performance to Presence

Over time, self-care became less about what I did and more about how I approached life.

It became less of a performance and more of a practice.

Noticing the little things. Drinking my infusions slowly. Appreciating the sky on my walk. Letting myself move at a pace that felt doable. Holding life lightly where I could.

Some days I get it right. Some days I don’t. But it’s always something I come back to.

I talked more about this shift in [Supportive Habits for a Balanced Life].

Why “Instagram Self-Care” Can Make Things Worse

When you’re burned out and anxious, your body is already in survival mode. So when social media gives you a dozen self-care ideas that are all big, effortful, and aesthetically perfect… it’s easy to feel like you’re failing. 

So you try harder. You do what they say. You copy the rituals. And it still doesn’t help. Because self-care wasn’t meant to be a to-do list.

And honestly? If you’ve never felt safe before in your life, the idea of slowing down can feel terrifying.

You can’t just force yourself to trust and surrender when your body doesn’t know how. That’s why nervous system work matters so much. I dive deeper into this in [What Nervous System Work Really Looks Like].

What I’d Say to the Reader in Tears Right Now

If you’re reading this with tears in your eyes, feeling guilty because you’re not doing “enough”... let me tell you something:

It probably isn’t true. If you’re feeling guilty, you’re likely already giving more than you have.

You’re not lazy. You’re not failing. You’re exhausted. And that makes sense.

It makes sense that you don’t feel safe to slow down.

It makes sense that your body is still on high alert.

What I want you to do is this: scale your efforts way back.

Don’t try to do an hour of yoga. Just look for two minutes of joy.

And if you’re feeling guilty right now, let me say this clearly: guilt is not proof that you’ve done something wrong. 

It’s often just the echo of old expectations, ones that said you had to earn your rest or always be “productive.” That belief may have protected you once, but it doesn’t serve you anymore. You deserve care right now, exactly as you are.

Maybe it’s a bird outside your window. Or the feeling of your blanket against your skin. Maybe it’s the warmth of your tea or the breeze on your face. Let it be small. But let it count.

Don’t force it. Just notice it. That’s enough for today.

When It’s Hard to Let Go and “Just Be”

A lot of advice says to let go. To surrender. To soften. But that’s only possible when your body feels safe.

If you’ve lived your life always on alert, your nervous system doesn’t yet know how to relax. That doesn’t mean something’s wrong with you. 

It means your system learned to protect you. That’s a sign of strength, not failure. Now your work is to slowly show it that safety is possible.

And that might mean starting with things that don’t even feel “healing.” Like staring at the ceiling. Or lying on the floor. Or crying. Or doing nothing.

If your body has never known what it feels like to rest safely, then even the smallest acts of stillness are revolutionary. Let that be enough.

This is why I talk so much about nervous system support and slow rituals—because the nervous system learns through experience.

What “Self-Care” Looks Like for Me Now

These days, self-care is in the little things. Not because I gave up on the “big” tools, but because they only started working once I changed my relationship with care itself. 

Now I see self-care as a daily rhythm, not a ritual I have to get right. It’s in the way I walk slower, breathe deeper, or notice light moving across the wall. Tiny shifts that tether me to myself.

• Drinking my tea slowly

• Sitting outside for five minutes

• Noticing something beautiful each day

• Saying no before I’m too overwhelmed

• Laughing. Playing. Letting myself enjoy things

• Resting without guilt

I talk about this kind of practical, non-performative self-care more in [Gentle Ways to Recover From Burnout].

If You Don’t Know Where to Start… Start Here

You don’t need to change everything.

You don’t need to become “healed.”

You just need two minutes.

And if that feels doable today, here’s a list to play with:

🌱 Two-Minute Joy Sparks

If you’re new to this kind of care, please don’t turn it into a checklist. You’re not here to “achieve” peace, you’re here to practice being with yourself gently. These are just small invitations. Let them meet you where you are.

Try one. Or try none. Let this list be a nudge, not a task.

• Stand in the sun and close your eyes

• Drink a warm beverage with full attention

• Watch the trees move in the wind

• Lie down and let your body melt

• Write down 3 things that are not urgent

• Pet an animal

• Light a candle and breathe for five deep breaths

• Walk barefoot for a few steps

• Water a plant

• Let yourself daydream

• Smile at someone (even yourself in the mirror)

• Watch the clouds

• Feel the weight of a blanket and do nothing

• Listen to a calming song from start to finish

• Name five beautiful things in the room around you

You don’t need to do all of them. You don’t even need to do one every day. Just pick what feels good. Come back to it when you’re ready.

And if you’re feeling guilty for needing so much rest, I want you to know: guilt is not proof that you’ve done something wrong. Sometimes it’s just the echo of an old belief—one that says you have to earn your rest or prove your worth.

But rest is your birthright.

Burnout isn’t just tiredness. It’s the kind of exhaustion that lives in your bones. It fogs your thoughts, makes your limbs heavy, dulls your spark.

That isn’t laziness. That’s a signal from your body that it needs deep, nervous-system-level care. You can read more on that topic here: [Why One Wellness Hack Isn’t Enough].

Also, healing doesn’t always feel good. Sometimes it feels boring. Or slow. Or numb. Or like nothing’s happening. But even those quiet moments are part of it. 

You don’t have to “feel amazing” to be healing. You just have to keep showing up with kindness. That’s enough.

Final Thoughts: You’re Not Broken. You’re Doing Your Best.

If self-care feels impossible right now, it doesn’t mean you’re lazy or weak or failing.

It means your nervous system is overwhelmed. It means your body is working hard to keep you safe.

And that’s not something to fight—it’s something to honor.

Start small. Start soft. Let healing be something that meets you where you are, not something you chase.

📖 Want to start with a cozy ritual?

My [Tea & Herb Recipe Cards] offer beginner-friendly blends to support nervous system healing, digestion, and stress relief—without being another thing to “perfect.”

Because healing doesn’t have to be hard. Sometimes it starts with a single sip.