The Quiet Rebellion: Self-Care Is an Act of Rebellion

This Bonfire Night, perhaps it's time to challenge some of the rules we've been living by.

Every November, we gather around bonfires and watch fireworks light up the sky. Bonfire Night is a reminder of a failed rebellion: the Gunpowder Plot of 1605, when a group of conspirators planned to blow up Parliament and change the course of British history.

I've sometimes wondered what our daily lives might look like if they had pulled it off. Would our traditions, our freedoms, our values and even the ordinary routines of everyday life be different? We can only imagine how history might have unfolded.

It makes me think about how much of the world we take for granted, and how the decisions and expectations of previous generations continue to shape the lives we lead today.

But perhaps rebellion doesn't always have to be dramatic or change the course of a country. Sometimes it begins much more quietly.

It might begin with saying no. Taking a break. Changing our minds. Asking for help. Or deciding that, just for once, our own needs matter too.

Audre Lorde wrote about self-care as an act of self-preservation. It's an idea that has stayed with me. Because I wonder how many of us have become so accustomed to looking after everyone and everything else that looking after ourselves can feel surprisingly uncomfortable.

Perhaps self-care really is a quiet act of rebellion.

The expectations we carry

Many of us grow up with ideas about what it means to be a good person, a good partner, a good parent, a good friend or a successful professional.

We learn to be helpful, dependable, accommodating and available. We become the person others turn to. We remember the birthdays, organise the appointments, anticipate what needs doing and keep things moving.

We might take pride in being capable and getting on with things. We might be the person who holds everything together, even when things feel difficult.

And often these qualities are valuable. Caring for others, being reliable and contributing to the lives of people we love are important parts of being connected to one another.

But what happens when we become so focused on meeting everyone else's needs that we lose sight of our own?

When does being helpful become an expectation? When does being dependable mean we never get to say we're tired? When does putting others first become the only way we know how to be?

We can become so familiar with these roles that we stop questioning them. We may even feel guilty when we consider doing something differently.

Why is looking after ourselves so difficult?

We often talk about self-care as though it's something straightforward. Take time for yourself. Get some fresh air. Have a bath. Read a book. Make time for the things you enjoy.

And sometimes it really can be that simple.

But for many people, the difficulty isn't knowing what might help. It's giving themselves permission to do it.

Resting can feel unproductive. Saying no can feel selfish. Asking someone else to take responsibility can feel uncomfortable. Taking time for ourselves can bring a surprising amount of guilt.

We might tell ourselves that we'll do it when everything else is finished, when work is less busy, when the children need us less, when the house is sorted or when life becomes a little easier.

But there is always something else.

Perhaps the quiet rebellion is recognising that we don't have to earn the right to rest. We don't have to reach the point of exhaustion before our needs become important. And we don't have to justify every decision to do something that is good for us.

Self-care isn't about becoming less caring towards others. It's about recognising that we are also someone worth caring for.

When life asks us to stop

For some women, menopause can bring these questions into sharper focus.

Changes in sleep, energy, mood, concentration and confidence can make it harder to keep doing everything in quite the same way. Things that once felt manageable may become more difficult. The ability to keep pushing through, absorbing the pressure and putting our own needs to one side may begin to disappear.

This can be frustrating and unsettling. It can also prompt us to reconsider how we are living.

Perhaps we start asking questions we haven't allowed ourselves to ask before.

Who am I now? What do I actually want? What gives me energy? What am I doing because I enjoy it, and what am I doing because I feel I should? What have I put aside? What might I want the next chapter of my life to look like?

These aren't always easy questions. They can bring changes to relationships, family life, work and the way we see ourselves.

But they can also open up possibilities.

Menopause doesn't have to be understood simply as something to manage or get through. For some, it can become a point at which we begin to reconsider what matters and how we want to spend our time and energy.

Small acts of rebellion

Perhaps we don't need to change everything. We can start with small things.

  • Saying no without offering a long explanation.

  • Taking a proper lunch break rather than eating at our desks.

  • Making time for something simply because we enjoy it.

  • Asking for help rather than automatically taking responsibility.

  • Letting someone else do something their way, even if it isn't our way.

  • Making an appointment for ourselves and treating it as important.

  • Recognising when we're tired and allowing ourselves to rest.

  • Reconnecting with interests, friendships and parts of ourselves that have been neglected.

  • Allowing ourselves to change our minds about what we want.

Some of these might sound ordinary. But if we've spent years believing that other people's needs must come first, they can feel like quite significant changes.

And sometimes other people may need time to adjust when we begin doing things differently. That's part of the process. We don't have to abandon our needs simply because they are unfamiliar to someone else.

What if we put ourselves back into the picture?

I don't think self-care means becoming entirely focused on ourselves or withdrawing from the people and responsibilities that matter to us.

It's about finding a different balance. One where our needs are not always the ones that get postponed. Where caring for others doesn't mean neglecting ourselves. Where we can be generous without becoming depleted and responsible without feeling responsible for everything.

Perhaps the most important part is recognising that we are allowed to take up space in our own lives.

I'm also working on something new for early 2027: Me-No-Pause. A programme to help women make sense of the physical, emotional and psychological changes of menopause, put the pieces together and think about what they need from this next stage of life.

Because sometimes the most radical thing we can do is pause, turn our attention towards ourselves and recognise that our needs matter too.

A little rebellion: where could you be in three months?

So this Bonfire Night, perhaps our rebellion doesn't need fireworks. It might simply be deciding to do one thing differently.

To rest. To say no. To ask for what we need. To make time for something that makes us feel more like ourselves.

Perhaps choose one small act of rebellion. Something you've been putting off, something you've been telling yourself you shouldn't do, or something you'd like to make more room for.

And then imagine carrying that change forward.

If you began making small changes today, where might you find yourself in three months' time? What might feel different? What might you have reclaimed? What could become possible?

You don't have to change everything at once. Sometimes the smallest decisions can begin to shift how we see ourselves and how we live.

And perhaps, most importantly, we can stop waiting for permission.

Self-care isn't selfish. Sometimes, it's the quietest and most important rebellion of all.


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Once a month, I share a new piece of writing exploring relationships, therapy, menopause and the many ways our experiences and relationships shape us.

My writing draws on systemic thinking, everyday life and the questions that interest me as a psychotherapist — from why we find ourselves having the same arguments, to family scripts, neurodivergence, menopause and the patterns that develop between us.

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