Caring for Your Health Is Not Selfish, It’s Holy

“But how do I convince myself that taking care of myself isn’t selfish?”

Somewhere along the way, women have picked up the idea that holiness means pushing through. That if you were really faithful, you wouldn’t notice how tired you are. Or hungry. Or overwhelmed. And whenever you tried to rest, or eat in a way that actually supported your body, or get answers to symptoms you’ve been carrying for years, something in you whispers that you’re being selfish. Or vain. Or indulgent. Or ungrateful. Or weak.

As a functional nutritionist that walks with women in the depths of their healing journeys, I see how common that belief is, especially among women who genuinely want to love well.

And I also see the fruits this lie produces…

We live in a culture that quietly admires burnout. We praise the woman who holds everything together, who keeps showing up no matter how she feels, who never seems to need much. And when faced with the Catholic understanding of sacrifice and redemptive suffering, this often gets distorted into a guilt for even having these basic needs.

“I’ll just rest later.”

“It’s not that bad—I’m probably just being dramatic.”

“This is just my cross to bear.”

At first, these thoughts might sound reasonable. Even virtuous. But over time, they teach us to override the very signals that God hardwired into us. Soon, hunger becomes an inconvenience. Fatigue becomes a character trait. Pain becomes something we explain away instead of listen to.

And eventually, something within the human heart starts to fracture. Frustration builds, resentment creeps in, we wonder what is wrong with us.

God does not ask us to deny our humanity in order to be faithful. He asks us to steward the gifts He has given.

This distinction matters more than we realize.

Yes, the Christian life involves sacrifice. Love always costs something. But sacrifice, when it’s healthy, is chosen freely and ordered toward love. Self-abandonment is different. It’s often driven by fear—fear of being selfish, fear of being judged, fear of needing too much.

There’s a difference between laying your life down and slowly draining yourself dry. There’s a difference between giving generously, without counting the cost, and living recklessly and running ourselves ragged.

When we assume holiness requires constant depletion, our needs start to feel like moral failures. But that isn’t how God relates to us. Even Jesus went up the mountain to pray and retreat. He rested. He ate. He slept. He didn’t bypass His humanity to redeem it.

That detail matters.

You Cannot Give What You Don’t Have

We talk a lot about “pouring ourselves out,” especially when it comes to vocation, service, motherhood, or mission. What we talk about less is the reality that no matter where God calls us next, our body is going with us. The truth is, the way we care for our bodies can transform the way we love and serve those around us.

A woman who is nourished gives differently than one who is depleted. This is written into our very biology—in pregnancy, a woman gives of her very body to create new life. The way you eat, live, move, and care for your body now will impact entire generations.

A woman who rests loves differently than one who is barely holding it together. Her fuse is longer, her capacity to carry the burdens of others expands. She becomes a shelter under which other souls may unfold. What would life look like if we believed that a woman who stewards her health doesn’t love less—she loves longer?

Caring for your health doesn’t make you less generous. In fact, proper care and nourishment of the body can be one of the most generous gifts you can offer to your loved ones. The way that we care for our bodies in our 20s, 30s, 40s, and 50s has a direct impact on our lives (and the lives of those whose care we will be entrusted to) in our 70s, 80s, and 90s.

Restoration isn’t something you earn, and being too busy to care is never a badge of honor. Restoration is the soil where holiness grows and where we embrace a life fully human.

Your Body Is Not an Inconvenience

Many women relate to their bodies as problems to manage. Symptoms feel like interruptions. Hormonal issues, digestive problems, anxiety, fatigue—these often come with shame layered on top of discomfort.

But your body is not a spiritual obstacle. It’s a place of encounter with the very God who made you.

The Christian understanding of the human person is clear: grace builds on nature. God doesn’t bypass the body to reach the soul. He encounters the whole person.

Ignoring your body isn’t spiritual maturity. More often, it’s a way of avoiding the vulnerability of slowing down or admitting need.

Learning How to Receive (Without Apologizing)

If caring for your health feels uncomfortable, that discomfort probably didn’t come from nowhere and unlearning that can take time.

A few small shifts can help:

Pay attention to your internal language. Phrases like “I should just push through” or “Other people have it worse” can sound humble, but they don’t always lead to freedom. Consider your body’s signs, signals, and internal monologue as invitations to reliance on the Lord.

Choose consistency and humanity over extremes. Holiness is rarely found in extremes. Think about your human needs as important as meetings on your calendar—regular meals, sleep, exercise become your non-negotiables.

Redefine care as stewardship. Instead of asking, “Is this selfish?” try asking, “Does this help me show up more fully for the life I’ve been given? Does this help me love the people around me more generously? Does this show due reverence and gratitude for the gift of my health, body, and life?”

Invite God into the ordinary. He meets us not only in prayer, but in rest, nourishment, walks, doctor’s appointments, and silence. None of this is separate from the spiritual life.

Desiring to sacrifice for others is good and holy. We just need to learn how to do it rightly, so that sacrifice doesn’t hide or excuse disorder, wounds, or lies. It is by learning to receive that we learn to give better—in a way that is well ordered and holy.

Editor’s Note: For more on the intersection of health and the Catholic Faith, check out this author’s new book, Made Good: Overcoming the Lies that Keep Women at War with Their Bodies, available from Sophia Institute Press.

Photo by Maddi Bazzocco on Unsplash