Self-care looks a lot different in real life than it does in the media.

When we think of self-care, it’s easy to picture manicures, spa days, and soft, beautiful moments—and yes, those things are lovely. But in real life, self-care is often a tough-love conversation with yourself.

In my life, self-care looks like becoming the person I said I would be—especially when it’s inconvenient. Especially when I don’t feel like it.

I often say I want to be “inner little girl approved,” and I live by that… or at least I try to. Try, try again.

Last year, a family member of mine decided to run her very first 5K. It was a charity race in a park I’ve run countless times—except this one was in the dead of winter in upstate New York. Freezing. Brutal.

I had always told her, “Any race you want to run, anywhere on earth, I’ll go with you so you never have to do it alone.”
I just didn’t think she’d pull my card in February.

I showed up in snow pants and layers. She ran in leggings—still at that age where how you look matters. I, on the other hand, have zero concern for what I look like on the sidelines and full concern for what my inner world feels like.

It was bitter 17 degrees. The course was icy. Every type of runner and walker was out there. And like every race, the energy was high and the sense of community was undeniable.

I don’t know if she’ll ever run another race, but I told her the only goal was to finish—because finishing means you kept a promise to yourself.

That race? That freezing, inconvenient, slightly annoying 5K?
That was self-care.

Because it’s the kind of reputation I want the people in my life to have of me. Auntie will go, be in good spirits and she is always up for a goal.

No, I didn’t want to go. But I chose to be a good sport. I put in my headphones, hit play on my playlist, and counted my “privileged problems” one step at a time.

From a young age, I understood that not everyone gets to do the things they dream about. So I made a decision: I will do the things others wish they could do. Because the little girl in me dreamed of becoming a woman who still could.

Now I’m facing a new challenge, different family member—double the distance, same promise: I’ll be there, no matter what.

This time it’s summer. It’s sentimental. But it’s also a distance I actually have to train for. I am not exactly a world-class runner, but what I lack in all things running I make up in joyful enthusiasm.

And that training? The soreness, the extra rest, the chiropractor visits, the hydration, the discipline—why do I call that self-care?

Because it’s exactly who I needed when I was younger.
And it’s exactly who I want to be now.

I find self-care in the hype of the event, in the matter-of-fact confidence people have in my willingness to participate.
In doing something that feels almost impossible.
In pushing my limits in my 40s and recognizing that as the gift that it is.

I see the same parallels in business, especially when it comes to supporting women.

What does it actually look like to support a woman’s business? It’s very much like supporting her first 5k.

It can be simple. You can be a raving fan. Like her post. Share her work. Invest in what she creates. Listen to her. Tell her her work matters. Be her best customer. Ring that cowbell even when she’s walking.

Because women face unique challenges in business especially when it comes to safety, privacy, and security. And those challenges are often overlooked.

We live in a culture where success is measured by how much access you’re willing to give the public to your private life—as if visibility requires exposure, and as if women owe the world something personal in order to succeed.

I don’t believe that.

Extraordinary businesses existed long before the internet. Long before phones. This idea that you must share every detail of your life to be successful is a new construct—and not one I subscribe to.

Every woman gets to choose how she runs her business. But I don’t believe that access to your children, your home, or your private life should be the price of success.

In fact, I think the opposite.

If you passed your favorite author, songwriter, or founder on the street, you likely wouldn’t recognize them. And to me, that feels like the ultimate luxury.

That’s the energy behind our events.

They are not built for spectacle. They are not built for social media.
They are built to be private, intentional, luxurious, and deeply human.

To be unplugged. To feel safe. To be fully present with other women.

That, to me, is the highest form of self-care.

I’m grateful to create that space for myself—and to extend it as an invitation to other women in my life and in my work.

Even if you never attend one of our events, I hope you feel a glimpse of that energy here. I believe in this work. I believe in women. And I believe there are women ready—ready to experience more, to go deeper, to build the relationships they’ve been waiting for.

My hope for you is that you discover forms of self-care you haven’t considered yet.

And when it feels inconvenient… when you don’t want to show up… when it stretches you—

recognize that this might be exactly the kind of self-care your future self is counting on.

Until we talk again,
Stephanie

written by a human, entered into her phone with talk-to-text, edited and formatted by chatGPT