December 27, 2024
By: Hadir Yousry
From Childlike Curiosity to Self-Care Advocate: Redefining Self-Care as a Necessity
As the eldest daughter, I’ve always felt the silent call to lead, to protect, to be the one who holds everything together. There’s a quiet resilience that comes with this role—an unspoken strength—but also an equally quiet yearning to find something that is just mine.
At 13, self-care became my answer to this search. What started as a playful exploration of shampoos and body mists turned into something far deeper over the years. Even then, I knew self-care wasn’t just about indulgence—just as reading comic books as a kid grew into reading novels, or taking care of my skin to avoid bullying from acne evolved into caring for my skin like a pro. It was about creating a space for myself, a ritual of quiet rebellion.
From 13 to a full-grown, vibrant woman, I’ve worked on believing that I deserve only the best. Spending my last penny on a high-end lippie isn’t a brag—it’s a metaphor for my worth and a reminder that I’m meant for elite things.
My lips, my face, my presence in the world—these are aspects of myself where I choose to invest care and intention. It’s not about the product itself; it’s about what it represents: a quiet affirmation of my value and a declaration that I deserve thoughtfulness in every corner of my life.
Today, this belief shows up in my morning routine, where I wake with grace and messy hair, meditate, and sit in silence for several minutes to weave the fabric of my spiritual life—like building a castle that protects me from whatever life throws my way.
That’s what inner spiritual life truly is: a fortress of resilience. I then move to a hearty breakfast and coffee—not instant, but real coffee brewed with care and poured into nothing less than a mug I love with all my heart.
I care for myself by making the most out of my 9-5 and embracing even better moments in my 5-9. I aim to have fun while setting boundaries at work in the mornings, then choose only fun movement in the evenings. Years ago, I found solace in yoga. It shapes how I hold myself—both on and off the mat—guiding how I respond to challenges and treat others with grace. I care for myself with simple acts, like wrapping up in a big, fluffy hoodie that makes a quiet statement to the world: “مش عايزة أتكلم”. Almost religiously, I attend a pop dance class at my gym. Even if I’m not great at it, this class is a space for me and my body to merge, to learn new movements, release ego, and simply have fun.
I’ve always believed workouts don’t have to be dreadful or painful to be effective—you should choose movement that brings you joy, whether it’s a brisk walk that turns into a run, Pilates, kickboxing, or badass deadlifts. The key is finding something that feels good.
These moments of care extend into the quieter parts of my life too. My cat, for instance, is a constant companion in these rituals. He curls up in my lap under a blanket as I sip tea and journal or read, but every morning, without fail, he follows me to my plants on the balcony. Even on cold mornings when he doesn’t have to, he’s there, watching as I water them, create life with them. It’s a small thing, but his presence feels like an affirmation—that even the simplest acts of care can hold great meaning.
Over the years, self-care has evolved from an occasional treat to a necessity—a lifeline in a world that often demands more than I can give. It’s not just about products or rituals; it’s about honoring myself the way I deserve to be honored. Like buying blue-light protective glasses to shield my eyes from endless screen time or only using a microfiber towel and satin pillowcases to protect my hair.
SELF resonates with me not because they reinvented self-care, but because they understand its simplicity. There’s nothing flashy about what they offer—it’s honest, straightforward, and deeply effective. Their belief in what they’re trying to sell is what makes them stand out. They don’t overpromise; they quietly deliver. And in a world full of noise, that rawness is refreshing.
As an eldest daughter, I’ve spent much of my life pouring into others—guiding, nurturing, supporting. Self-care became my way of filling my own cup. It’s in the small, intentional moments: the ritual of massaging body butter into my skin after a long shower, exploring and playing with my favorite scents, or the satisfaction of slipping into soft fabrics (carefully chosen because I read my labels, and polyester no
longer has a place in my wardrobe) that feel like an embrace I deserve. These aren’t luxuries—they’re necessities. They’re how I remind myself that I matter.
Looking back, I see how self-care has grown with me. It started as a spark of curiosity—a desire to explore the world in small, fragrant ways. But over time, it became a philosophy, a way of life.
Today, it’s the foundation on which I build
everything else. It’s how I show myself love, respect, and grace—even during PMS, when the world feels especially heavy, I choose to lie flat for days because that’s what I need.
To my fellow eldest daughters—or anyone who has ever felt the pressure to carry more than their share—I hope you hear this:
You deserve the rituals and the subtle affirmations of your worth. Self-care isn’t selfish; it’s an act of love, not just for who you are now, but for who you are becoming.