How do you make time for self-care?
Self-care is not a matter of scheduling. It is a way of living—in spirit, soul, and body. Scripture says, “Above all else, guard your heart, for it is the wellspring of life” (Proverbs 4:23). For me, self-care is eating well, thinking wisely, and walking closely with God.
Yet life rarely unfolds as we wish.
In the 1990s, I watched a BBC documentary on work-stress management. Interviewees described twelve-hour workdays, most weekends included, as torture—to themselves and to their families. It was a plea, not a cure.
A decade earlier, I had already worked twelve hours daily, most weekends too, sometimes sixteen, once thirty-two hours without stop. My boss called twelve hours “normal”—though it was four hours beyond the standard day.
Neither the BBC subjects nor I had chosen our lot. We were victims of circumstance.
Technology speeds work, but work multiplies faster still. COVID-19 reshaped how we live and do business. Remote work blurred the boundaries between home and office, pushing work-life balance to the brink of extinction.
This decline is generally by design, not choice. Yet for some, it remains a choice. My nephew, an IB consultant, works round-the-clock to serve investors across time zones. By choice or circumstance, stress management becomes a handsome but impractical ideal. For professionals like him, self-care is nearly impossible. Catching up on sleep, squeezing in thirty-minute workouts after late nights at the cost of even less sleep, stealing short breaks—these are self-care in disguise, bending what cannot be bent.
This global phenomenon will not likely change. Long hours will continue to erode life. How can anyone truly make time for self-care—or play small tricks while the whole game is flawed?
Yesterday, I learned from a 91-year-old Shanghainese architect how he stays agile:
Never say old. Never say cold. Never say slow. Never say tired.
But he omitted something—until the journalist asked about his wife. Sixty years of companionship and deep love: that is the backbone of his life.
By faith, I endured hard times. By grace, I survived intact, able to share how God has guided, provided, and protected me all my days (Psalm 91). Choices do not matter. Circumstances do not matter. What matters is the love you find in life. For me, that Love is the wellspring of my life.
This is not a prescription for everyone. It is a witness. What works for one may not work for another. But the wellspring is the same—and it is open to all.
The poem below does not summarise this reflection. It echoes it—in images of endurance, providence, and the guarded heart. Read it not as conclusion but as benediction.
May it inspire your own reflections on finding true self-care.
—
“Self-Strengthening Never Ceases”
Cold or warm, or heat, or chill,
The cherry endures, the peach blooms spill.
Tiger or wolf, or cat, or hound,
Raised or not, sharp wits abound.
Great Nature’s wonders, strangely wrought,
Strange wonders seen, and heard, and taught.
Man does his deeds, Heaven sees all,
Home does its deeds beneath the roof’s fall.
In cold war’s shiver, the shelter stays warm,
The body unwearied, the fight keeps its form.
The road to success by faith is paved,
A heart of care keeps warm feet saved.
A guardian’s heart makes the road run true,
A guardian’s spirit sees eternity through.
—
en yan hua fang 