How do you make time for self-care?
I’m not very good at thinking of “self-care” as an actual activity.
I don’t schedule spa days. I don’t meditate for twenty minutes every morning while listening to ocean sounds. I’ve never kept a gratitude journal, although considering how much I write, I suppose you could argue that I’ve accidentally been keeping some version of one for years.
For me, self-care usually means finding little places in the day where I can shut everything else out for a while.
Writing is probably the biggest one. I write almost every day, whether it’s something serious, something ridiculous, a devotional, a story from my past, a bourbon review or whatever strange question WordPress has decided to ask me. Writing forces me to slow down long enough to think about what I’m actually thinking. Sometimes I discover the answer while I’m writing it.
There’s bourbon, too. Not necessarily drinking bourbon, although obviously that happens. The ritual matters almost as much as what is in the glass: picking a bottle, pouring a little into a Glencairn, sitting down and actually paying attention to it. What does it smell like? What does it taste like? What changed after ten minutes? For a little while, there is nothing I need to fix and nowhere else I need to be.
Football works the same way. On a Saturday afternoon in the fall, I can disappear into college football for a few hours. I can yell at Florida, complain about officiating even though I am an official, argue about whether somebody should have gone for it on fourth down and temporarily pretend that the most important problem in the world is whether the Gators can convert third-and-seven.
Then there are quieter things: sitting with Daryl, having Princess nearby, reading Scripture, listening to music I’ve heard a thousand times, or simply enjoying a stretch of time when nobody is asking anything of me.
Maybe that’s what self-care really is for me.
My life has plenty of responsibilities. Teaching alone can consume every minute I’m willing to give it, and it will happily take a few more. There is always another paper to grade, lesson to plan, email to answer or problem to solve. If I wait until everything is finished before taking time for myself, I’ll never take it.
So I’ve learned to steal it.
A few minutes writing. A good pour. A football game. Dinner with my wife. A dog who believes being six inches away from us constitutes abandonment. A familiar song. A prayer.
None of those things looks particularly impressive on an Instagram wellness page.
They work for me.
And I think that probably matters more.
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Reflection copyright © 2026 Doug DeBolt.
