I Have Been Putting Myself Last My Entire Life. Still No Medal. Still No Help. Just More Advice

 

Let me tell you what self care looks like in her life.

It looks like everyone else's needs being met first. Every single day. Without exception. Without complaint. Without anyone noticing — because she is so good at it that it looks effortless. It looks like her cup of tea going cold because she made everyone else's first. It looks like the last piece of food on the plate that she gives away because someone else wanted it. It looks like sleeping last and waking first. It looks like remembering everyone's appointments, everyone's preferences, everyone's bad days — and forgetting, somehow, to remember her own.

And then someone — with all the love in the world and absolutely no awareness of the irony — looks at her and says:

"You really need to take better care of yourself."

And she smiles.

Because what else do you do.

The advice that costs nothing to give

The world has never been short of advice for working women.

Eat better. Sleep more. Exercise. Meditate. Journal. Do yoga. Take a spa day. Practice gratitude. Set boundaries. Prioritise yourself. Love yourself. Put your oxygen mask on first before helping others.

Beautiful advice. Really. Every word of it is technically correct.

And not one word of it comes with an offer to take something off her plate so she can actually do any of it.

Nobody says "eat better" and then offers to cook dinner. Nobody says "sleep more" and then offers to handle the morning routine. Nobody says "exercise" and then offers to watch the children for an hour. Nobody says "take a spa day" and then genuinely, practically, concretely makes it possible for her to take that day without the guilt and the logistics and the catching up she'll have to do afterward.

The advice is free. The help is not offered.

And she is supposed to — on top of everything she already does — somehow find the time, the energy, the mental space, and the permission to take care of herself.

As if self care is something she has been neglecting out of laziness. As if she hasn't thought of it. As if the problem is that nobody told her she was allowed to rest.

The invisible medal she never received

She has been putting herself last for years. Decades in some cases.

She put herself last when she gave up the career opportunity because the family needed her to stay. She put herself last when she spent her savings on someone else's emergency. She put herself last when she sat at the dining table and served everyone before herself and then ate whatever was left. She put herself last when she cancelled her doctor's appointment because something came up at home. She put herself last at work, at home, in friendships, in marriage, in every room she has ever walked into.

And what did she get for it?

More to do. More to manage. More advice about how she should be doing better.

There is no medal for the woman who puts everyone first. No ceremony. No acknowledgement. No moment where someone stands up and says — we see what you have been doing. We see what it costs you. We are grateful and we want to give something back.

Instead what she gets is — "you should really take better care of yourself."

As if the problem is her. As if the solution is also her. As if the people around her have absolutely no role to play in the fact that she has no time, no space, and no energy left for herself.

The comparison that cuts deepest

And then — just when she thought it couldn't get more exhausting — comes the comparison.

"Your sister-in-law manages to do her daughter's hair so nicely every morning."

"Your colleague always looks so put together."

"Her house is always so clean."

"She finds time for everything."

The comparison is always to someone who appears to be doing it better. Never to anyone who is also struggling. Never to the full picture of what that other woman's life actually looks like behind closed doors. Just the highlight — held up against her reality — and used to suggest that she is somehow not trying hard enough.

She is trying. She has always been trying. She is trying so hard that she has forgotten what not trying feels like.

The comparison doesn't motivate her. It doesn't inspire her to do better. It sits on her chest like one more thing she is failing at. One more standard she cannot meet. One more person she is disappointing.

And she adds it to the list.

The list that never gets shorter.

What self care actually requires

Here is what nobody says when they tell her to take care of herself.

Self care requires time. And time requires someone else to take something off her to-do list. It requires the person scrolling through their phone to put the phone down and do something — anything — so she has one less thing to carry.

It requires the people around her to stop watching her do everything and ask — what can I do? Not as a favour. Not as help. As a basic recognition that she is a person too. That her needs exist too. That her exhaustion is real too.

According to a 2026 report, 78% of caregivers experience burnout — with many describing it as a weekly or even daily occurrence. And the vast majority of those caregivers are women. Women who were told to take care of themselves. Women who had no realistic way to do so given everything they were carrying.

This is not a personal failure. This is a systemic reality. Women are burning out not because they don't know how to rest — but because the conditions for rest are never created for them.

Real self care for a working woman looks like:

Someone making her tea and bringing it to her while it is still hot. Someone handling the school run without being asked. Someone saying "I've got dinner tonight — you sit." Someone putting the phone down and being present enough to notice that she is running on empty — and doing something about it without waiting to be asked.

That is self care. Not a spa day she has to plan, budget for, feel guilty about, and recover from. Just someone seeing her. And helping. Without advice. Without comparison. Without conditions.

To the people who love her

This is not written with anger. Not even close.

It is written with the deep tiredness of a woman who has been putting herself last for so long that she genuinely cannot remember what it feels like to come first. Even once. Even briefly.

And it is written as a gentle, honest request to the people around her:

If you love her — show her. Not with advice. With action.

Put the phone down. Look up from the screen that shows you everyone else's life and look at the person right in front of you who is quietly carrying everything.

Take something off her list today. Not because she asked. Because you finally noticed it was there.

Give her the hairstyle compliment — but also offer to help with the hairstyle. Give her the self care advice — but also create the space for her to actually take it. Stop comparing her to other women — and start seeing her for exactly who she is: someone who has been showing up completely for everyone around her, for years, with almost nothing left for herself.

She doesn't need a medal.

She just needs someone to make her tea. While it is still hot. And sit with her for five minutes. And not need anything from her.

Just five minutes where she is not last.

Is that really too much to ask? 💙

When was the last time you came first? Not second, not third — first. Tell me in the comments. And if someone in your life needs to read this today — share it with them. Sometimes the people we love just need to see it written down. 💙

Also read: When He Finally Understood What a Husband's Support Means | She Earns She Cares She Manages — But Who Manages Her? | Same Work. Less Pay. And a Smile She Has to Wear Anyway.