Decolonize self-care with softness

13 ideas to soften and sweeten self-care and a spell for the messy women

When you think of self-care, what comes up? I feel a lot of ick: it is another to-do to make me more appealing and productive in a capitalist patriarchy. It feels impossible to achieve when levied with the demands of motherhood and womanhood. When I practice normative self-care, I also feel a backlash of shame coming from the selfish, navel-gazing view of self-care. And what about the unglamorous parts of self-care, like ugly crying to your therapist about the trappings of it all and being an ACEIP? Here are 13 ideas to decolonize self-care with softness and sweetness.

When self-care becomes a way to silence, perform, and oppress

Self-care became another obligation and performance—an everything shower when what you really need is to lie down. What if we rewild ourselves, do less and go slow, replace intellectualism with curiosity, and savor beauty instead? I was moved by two things lately:

1. This scene in Nightbitch

The husband, off on another work trip, tells her she “really needs to take care of herself” and to “make a schedule.” I feel the trauma in my body from all the “rest when the baby sleeps” and “take care of yourself so you can take care of your baby” when we have societally created no conditions for childcare, leave, etc. It is like setting up a trap and feigning surprise (and laughing) when a person trips. IYKYK

2. This post by Milk and Cookies

I’ve been mulling over low-energy habits that improved my mental health from Milk and Cookies, which begins:

There was a time when I thought self-care had to be loud—morning alarms at 5 AM, 12-step skincare routines, planners bursting with color-coded tasks… Instead of chasing a version of self-improvement that felt like a second job, I started looking for small, nearly invisible things that made life feel softer. Things that required no effort but still felt like care.

No. 6 on their list suggests swapping self-care for self-comfort, and that distinction landed deeply for me. It feels like a key.

We need systemic change and softness

Decolonizing self-care means unraveling the ways dominant systems—colonialism, patriarchy, capitalism, white supremacy—reshape care into something transactional, performative, and unattainable. The culture that upholds these systems demands we be more productive, palatable, and “good” while refusing to acknowledge its contradictions, oppression, and limitations. It sells self-care as luxury rather than liberation, trapping us in cycles of guilt and self-blame instead of collective healing.

Yes, we need systemic change. We also need softness, slowness, and a return to care that nourishes rather than depletes. Here are four principles for decolonizing self-care with softness:

1. Rewild yourself

2. Go slow, do less

3. Let curiosity lead

4. Savor beauty

Here are some ideas for how to decolonize self-care and encourage softness, sweetness, ease, and comfort:

1. Pee when you have to pee

Warm drink, stretch, and yawn, orienting yourself in your environment. These are practices of rewilding I’ve learned from Ro Marlen. The one I balked at the most was “pee when you have to pee.” How silly! Of course, I do that. Nope. I’ve watched myself for a week, and the number of times I treat my body like an inconvenience is astounding. As Ro says, how can we create conditions for healing [insert anything your heart desires here] if we don’t pee when we have to pee?

Side note on treating the body as an inconvenience

While this may seem silly, the tendency to ignore the body is steeped in patriarchal violence. In On Our Best Behavior, Elise Loehnen writes:

There seem to be two camps of thinkers on this subject: those who believe the body is the sacred vessel, and those who believe the body must be subjugated and overcome… [and those] who believe the body must be controlled, overruled, and dominated, attribute much of the body’s baseness to its “feminine” qualities.

For the record, Thomas Hobbes, Charles Darwin, and Sigmund Freud were all firmly in the “body is abhorrent” camp. Loehnen later writes about a friend, a lawyer who billed by the hour and ignored her urge to pee so often and for so long while working that she became incontinent: “On her first vacation in two years, she was sitting on a tour bus and looked down to discover she had peed her pants. She hadn’t felt a thing.”

Leohnen writes that when balancing divine masculine and feminine, “It is incumbent on us to release the feminine from its strictures, to venerate those impulses and sacred parts of ourselves.” So yes, pee when you have to pee.

2. Replace “setting goals” with “making commitments”

I am so tired of goal-setting. It is exhausting. As a mom, when the first flood of preschool illness washes away every goal you set for yourself. I make commitments now. They are basic, like drink water. Walk. Write. Maybe even I commit to writing once a week.

The energy of committing feels so different—less judgmental and more encouraging. Making commitments to myself builds self-trust, a medicine for an overculture that feeds on self-betrayal.

When I hear someone talk or write about, “I hit my $$$/gym goals,”—just ugh! This is likely more about me than them, and I am curious about it. Ultimately, my commitments are for the benefit of my whole being—less focused on whipping myself across an imaginary finish line and more about noticing the flowers on the way.

3. Delay replies

This is an old trick I have used for years. I use it when I need it, not all the time. I don’t reply to people right away. I wait days or hours for texts or emails. As a recovering hypervigilant, I felt my value was being available and responding immediately. I used to get annoyed when people didn’t reply to me. How dare they!? Instead, I trust that others are managing their time and energy safely, and I have permission to do so, too.

You don’t have to do anything right now.

4. Wear lipstick and fancy undies

Some days, I wear lipstick or fancy undies just for me, and the only excursion is to drop off at preschool. I’m not saying these are “comfortable,” but they bring “self-comfort” in their cheeriness and mystery. Like the thought that I am wearing the wildest undies while doing the asinine domestic work—it makes me smile every time. Or doing the same asinine domestic work, then glancing at myself in the mirror with crushed chili lips. There she is, I think, every time. Also, it's totally okay to add in or swap out this one for wearing comfy sweaters.

5. Look at art (or make art)

Just sit and look at art. I have two paintings that I purchased, which I adore. I fretted about their cost, but they bring me incalculable joy. One is “The Moon Over Argianno” by Julian Parker Burns, and the other is a painting by Debbi Morkel. Even better if you decide to make art, even if you have to call it “doodling.”

zentangle by yours truly

6. Power down your devices at night

I am affected by frequencies and energies—morphic fields, people’s moods, and cell phones. I have been turning mine off at night for two weeks and sleeping more soundly. The rigamarole of powering it up at night creates a barrier for 4 am scrolling. You can even make your gadgets a bed like Jessica Snow did. (Like many others here, I’ve deleted my News and IG apps for now, which also helps, though Substack notes can still get me).

7. Be okay with incompletion and messiness

Perfectionisticsm is an inherited, reinforced, and ingrained symptom of the over culture for women. This is a tough one to untagle but I have found that the practic.

[See what I did there. Are you judging me for typos and leaving you hanging?]

Working on watercolors? Forgo the YouTube tutorials and just get crazy. You, brushes, paint, and paper. Make a mess, be a mess. Goddess, I love a messy woman. P.S. There’s a poem for you at the end.

8. Read paperback books

Hardcovers are okay, too. Go to the library. I have been reading on an iPad from the library for ages and appreciate the easy access to content, but I am easily distracted (Substack notes included). I started pulling out REAL books. I love the smell and the weight of a book in my hands. I prep my bedside with books and a reading light (and hide my iPad in another room and make sure it is turned off).

9. Turn off your alarm

I haven’t set an alarm in months except to ensure I caught a flight. Caveat: I am a morning person. I also have a kid who will invariably wake me up, though I rarely sleep later than him. Still, alarms wreak havoc on my nervous system. This one has an air of privilege. I know people have jobs and lives that need doing. What happens if you let yourself sleep in even one day a week? Especially if you are the busy mom who never does. I read once that sleeping between 7-9 am is like a magical healing dreamsleep.

10. Make a nest

Make a nest with blankets and pillows on the floor or couch, and plop yourself there. Imagine it is a nest for regeneration, rebirth, and rewilding. Weave in colors and textures. Bring a hot pad. Invite your kids to join. Nests are magical. Did you know there are over 10,000 species of birds and all kinds of nests—floating, hanging, platform, and more? If you can’t build a nest, maybe imagine one.

11. Text a friend

Connection is a balm. So many are suffering. I love this post from Karna with 22 text messages for friends. I mean, just read the list for yourself. Wouldn’t it feel good to receive a few of these randomly? When she once sent me, “It is okay to take baby steps,” my cells shifted. What a gift.

12. Use candles or red light

I love this one. I’ve been using candles at night to encourage connection at dinner with my kid. This made Milk and Cookie’s list, too. Sometimes, it might be battery candles, a scarf over a lamp (old school), or the red setting on my modern lights. This works at night, in the morning, or during storms and pretend/real blackouts with kids.

13. Bonus: decolonizing self-care for mystics and witches

Here are some bonus ideas for people whose self-care routines include mystical and spiritual practices. I got pretty obsessive about my magical thinking and needed ways to practice with more balance.

Create a simple invocation

Create a simple invocation that you can memorize. Release expectations for long opening and closing rituals. Here’s mine: Angels, ancestors, and guides, please gather around me now. [Fairy dust, feather clearing, present guides immediately commence.]

Look at the imagery on your Tarot and oracle cards

Put away your guidebooks. Don’t research the card's symbols, colors, or other elements. Or, stop pulling cards entirely for a little while.

Above all else, be soft, sweet, and gentle with yourself.

Spellcast: a poem for the messy women

Yes, poems can be spells. I wrote one for the love of messy women. It is messy to rebel against what you’re supposed to be, even the stories you wrote for yourself. This is for me and many women I adore. I’m in my messy era—how about you?

You don’t have to make sense
Just touch the part of you that’s rising, Emergent
The One brave enough to know that messy means free.

To the woman at pre-school pick-up with red, puffy eyes 
Showing up even when her work is laughed at
In the no-makeup-and-sweatpants glory of Being.
To the septuagenarian who hit-and-run a parked car
Spending months righting the wreckage
Losing friends and sleep, still knowing she was deserving of forgiveness.
To the woman who had an emotional affair at work, sitting with shame
Turning up the speed and volume of self-acceptance 
When the man stole her team and a decade of business.

I wonder if it was messy 
When Isis spread her wings, in mourning and protection
When Lilith refused to lay beneath Adam, then fled paradise
When Circe first transformed a man into a pig
When Mami Wata first drowned a disobedient person after healing many

Was it messy when Hekate first sparked her torch in the darkness?

Where is One who never gave up on you?
The Observer of the observer
Who grants permission to Be Messy.
Messiness is the soft body brave enough to say, Enough.
Change, or we’ll change for you.

You don’t have to be good, Mary says.
Just remember the stillness you feel when you decide,
I am not doing anything I don’t want to do anymore.