An Anti-Self-Care Theory: Presence over Production
Every January, we see the same thing.
Self-care content. Everywhere.
Long, beautifully drawn-out routines. Morning routines. Night routines. Workout routines. Weekly resets. Daily walks...even when it’s raining.
Girl, no. You’re going to mess around and catch a cold.
And I get it. I really do. With all the buzzwords floating around (self-care, softness, pause..) there’s rarely an explanation of what any of it actually means. So we improvise. Or we follow people who look like they’re living it on Instagram and TikTok.
But here’s the thing - Most of what we call self-care right now is maintenance.
Getting your nails done.
Hair done.
A 45-minute routine before bed.
That’s upkeep, hon. And there’s nothing wrong with upkeep. We live in a very visual, very external, very appearance-based world.
I exfoliate. I dry brush. I gua sha. I self-massage more than most. That’s not the issue.
The issue is confusing maintenance for the work.
Because the real work, at least for me, has been understanding that while I desire harmony in relationships, don’t pursue it to the point of self-erasure; or that I can hold on to my compassionate nature, yes, but not to the point where I abandon my own needs, my own desires, my own self. That was the revelation.
A while back, I saw a post about the robe theory. And it felt different than this “self-care as maintenance” thing we’re doing now. It wasn’t about productivity disguised as softness. It was about presence, ease, and not rushing into the next role.
Photo: Fe Noel
The Robe Theory is the idea is that true wealth is signaled by the “robe woman.” She’s someone who has mastered the art of self-permission.
It’s a different definition of wealth: the refusal to rush. It suggests that choosing to stay in a robe on a Tuesday morning isn’t just about comfort; it’s a quiet claim to your own time.
I didn’t know there was a theory behind it. I just knew I lived in robes. Like, lived. To me, they represented flow and grace. A different way of moving through my day.
But then I thought about it more.
I got really into skincare during a trash relationship. I’m not going to go into detail here because it would derail the whole post, but what I realized is that what we now call “self-care,” I was already doing. It just wasn’t transformational.
It was preventative care.
It didn’t change my mindset. It didn’t change how I showed up. It didn’t change what I tolerated. It stayed external.
What did change things was when routine turned into ritual.
When the shower wasn’t just bathing, it was staying under the water a little longer and letting it run down my body. Cleansing me.
When moisturizing wasn’t just skincare, it was taking my time and actually touching my body like it mattered. Caressing me.
I stopped rushing to complete the routine so I could move on to the next thing.
And I think, unknowingly, that’s where the robes comes in.
The robe isn’t about ‘looking soft’.
It’s about staying with yourself longer than ‘necessary’.
Taking your time.
Refusing to snap immediately into productivity.
That’s the difference between maintenance and care.
Maintenance keeps things running.
Care changes how you inhabit your life.
So when I see all these New Year self-care routines, I don’t roll my eyes.
Okay… yes, maybe I do. Sometimes…
But then, maybe this is just an invitation:
To less doing, and more being.
And a little less performance, less planning and more presence.