Are You Practicing Self-Care or Just Performing It?
What the fog taught me about intentional living
Earlier this week the fog set in. The days are gray, often drizzly, the temperatures not quite low enough to require the wood stove but cool enough that multiple layers must be worn at all times.
I often welcome this time of year because it flows naturally into the quiet, introspective aspect of winter—a deep and nourishing time to dream. But this year there's an additional layer of fluidity, which for me looks like an inability to focus or think clearly.
Sometimes that's fine. I can go with it. But it gets inconvenient when I'm mid-project and committed to completion.
The Website That Wouldn't Wait
I was updating my website and couldn't leave it half-done. Anyone visiting would see a mess. So I committed to finishing.
I did the things I knew would help: soothing music, breaks, work sessions. But then I reached for coffee—which I'd quit months ago—and it backfired. Combined with web work and some minor irritations, I ended up stressed, wired, and not feeling well.
Here's the part that interests me: I thought I was being intentional. I thought I was supporting myself. But when I looked closer, I realized I was performing self-care while ignoring what my body actually needed.
Breaks—but not movement.
Music—but not dancing.
Caffeine to push through—instead of space to be in the fog.
Where We Lash Out (or In)
This is usually the moment we react. We snap at someone. We berate ourselves. We blame the circumstances.
But what if we paused instead?
What if we asked, with curiosity and without judgment:
Where was I setting myself up for success, and where was I forcing it?
How did that affect my nervous system? My body? My energy?
What was I actually needing that I didn't give myself?
The Fog Teaches
The fog, literal and metaphorical, has something to show us. It reveals where we're moving on autopilot. Where we think we're being intentional but we're actually performing. Where we confuse commitment with force.
I'm still learning to remember the difference.
In hindsight, what I needed wasn't just breaks but movement. Not just music but dancing. Not caffeine to push through but space to let the fog be fog.
The liminal center of this season asks us to slow down enough to notice what we're actually doing and whether it's serving us.
What's one place this week where you thought you were caring for yourself but were actually pushing through? What did you actually need?
Let's be honest about it together.
PS: The deeper context to this is in the next substack post Beyond the Mind: How Creativity Unlocked My Body’s Wisdom.
This is a post from my Substack site. If you’d like to read my weekly reflections, do check it out. You may subscribe for free to receive new posts directly to you inbox (usually each Sunday). Suzanne’s Substack - Staying Wild, Being Free.
