Why Self-Care is an Act of Empathy

Today’s post is a natural follow-up to our discussion on The Miracle Question. Once we begin to envision what a “perfect life” looks like, we inevitably move into the territory of purpose—and the freedom we have to define it. While there is no single “right” answer, we eventually have to choose a direction that is both balanced and sustainable.

In my work with clients facing severe depression, a frequent sentiment is: “I just don’t want to be here.” When someone is in the depths of an existential crisis, they often reach a fork in the road. If they cannot find a reason to "be here" for themselves, they must look for other reasons worthy of enduring the struggle. I often tell my clients, “Your family needs you, your friends need you,” and even, “I need you.”

If, in your darkest moments, the only thing keeping you grounded is the knowledge that others rely on you—I believe that is perfectly valid. That is precisely what community and family are for: to provide us strength when we have none. But like all things, this requires a delicate balance.

Alternatively, I meet clients who serve as the "glue" or the "foundation" for their families. They are the ones who remember every birthday, organize every gathering, and ensure the daily gears of life keep turning. These "Matriarchs" and "Patriarchs" often face a different dilemma: Is being needed enough to justify my existence? My answer is always yes—it is enough to keep you going. However, is it enough to make you feel fulfilled or complete? That is where it gets complicated, and I believe the answer is no.

We often hear the cliché: “You have to put your own oxygen mask on first before assisting others.” But clichés are usually born from fundamental truths. If we allow ourselves to become too frail to function, we eventually lose the capacity to care for those we love. This presents a paradox for those struggling with self-worth: Why care for myself if I don’t even love myself? Why prioritize my own life over those I deem more "worthy"? The answer is simple: To have the energy to care for others, you must first sustain yourself. Finding contentment and meeting your own needs isn't selfish; it is a prerequisite for service. Caring for yourself is an act of empathy for the people who depend on you. We must feed ourselves before we can hope to feed the world.

This leads us back to our purpose. Can we choose to live for others? Can we live for our families, our friends, and our loved ones? Absolutely. But even in a life of devotion, self-preservation must come first. You truly cannot pour from an empty cup. To be the best partner, parent, or friend, you must first master the art of self-care. You must learn to nourish your own spirit and find your own "promised land" before you can lead anyone else there.

So, what does this actually mean? How do we learn to prioritize ourselves? It starts by looking inward for our own answers. One of the most challenging questions I’ve ever been asked is, “What do you want?” My immediate instinct was to answer with “we.” “Well, we would like to do this... we are dreaming of going here.” In that moment, I realized my mind had almost lost the concept of “I.” I had become so focused on the collective that I had lost touch with my individual desires. I had to reorient; I had to relearn how to think about and care for myself. As you ponder your own Miracle Question, notice your language: are you answering for yourself, or for “us”? There is a profound difference.

I believe deeply that what connects us to the universe—to our Higher Power—is the essence of the self that lies deep within. This connection can only be accessed when we tune out the external noise and the heavy weight of our obligations to others. In those quiet moments, we can look inward for the answers that only lie in the deepest parts of our feelings.

I learned early on that a Higher Power rarely shouts; there is no lightning or thunder to command our attention. Instead, the guidance comes in whispers—but our own internal noise is usually too loud for us to hear them.

The next time you talk about your dreams or your weekend plans, pay attention to your pronouns. Are you saying 'we' out of habit, or is there an 'I' in there too? Reclaiming your own identity doesn't mean leaving your loved ones behind; it means bringing a more whole, energized version of yourself to the table. 

If you’ve lost the 'I' in your life, I’m here to help you find it again. Let’s start that conversation today.