Quotes About Self-care

It's about picking which baggage is worth carrying with you later, when you go into the real world, where people don't want to hear about body parts on the roads.

I know when you need your space. That's why I got the beard.

If you live alone, you'd be a fucking masochistic freak to buy an opaque shower curtain.

I tie a plastic bag around his head. I go to the bathroom and write down the names of all of his skin care products. Everyone will remember him for his stupid fucking talk show but I will remember him as the man who made me realize that I need to take better care of my skin.

When you hear nothing about the body, he suggests, you stop listening to it, and feeling it; you stop experiencing it as a worthy, integrated entity.

That was my favorite line: I'll drink less when things get better.

The soul always knows what to do to heal itself. The challenge is to silence the mind

Forgiveness, quite frankly, is the most selfish thing you can do. Because it is the greatest thing you can do for yourself.

your biography—that is, the experiences that make up your life—becomes your biology.

Make yourself sleep? Oh, don't think of it that way." Reed let her pass him. "It's an indulgence, not a duty. 'Nature requires five, custom gives seven, laziness takes nine, and wickedness eleven.' Try to be wicked.

Does "doing exactly what I want" mean not thinking about other people's feelings? Because that's just not the kind of person I am. Maybe it can mean whatever I want it to mean, like taking care of myselfand not letting people walk over me

You have to take care of your heart. But at what cost?

Be careful. Guard your heart. No one else is going to take care of you.

I'm proud that today, at 43 years old, I've come to value the aging process and focus on inner rather than outer beauty.

The doctor asked what my diet was like and I had to sit down and realize it's not normal, and hadn't been normal for about 20 years.

Eating is not a crime. It's not a moral issue. It's normal. It's enjoyable. It just is.

I wish that I could leave myself alone. I wish that I could finally feel that I punished myself enough. That I deserved time off for all my bad behavior. Let myself off the hook, drag myself off the rack where I am both torturer and torturee.

I was sitting by myself the other night doing the usual things one does when spending time alone with yourselves. You know, making mountains out of molehills, hiking up to the top of the mountains, having a Hostess Twinkie and then throwing myself off the mountain. Stuff like that.

My only intent was to feel better—which is to say, not to feel at all.

There are two choices post forty-five: letting ourselves go or making ourselves sit like good, well-groomed, obliging pets, coats smooth and wrinkle-free, stomachs flat, muscles taut, teeth clean, hair dyed, nails manicured—everything just so. The thing is, though, not only is this completely unnatural, requiring warehouses full of self-control and perseverance, but it demands a level of discomfort you have to be willing to live with 'til death by lap band or liposuction.

It seemed to calm me, getting anything that might be chaotic behind the eyes onto the page in front of me where it could do me less harm. Along the lines of the saying, "Better out than in," though that refers to vomit. Maybe more like, "Better an empty house than an unhappy tenant." Not that writing on my notepads managed to actually empty my mind—though some would argue—but I was grateful to relieve the overflow.

I had in no way intended to risk my life. I just wanted to turn the sound down and smooth all of my sharp corners.

It's hard to save the world when you can't save yourself,

I eat so poorly during the stressful part of my day I need to have a vegetable orgy for dinner just to make up for it.