Full Plates & Empty Tanks: A Self-Care Check-In from Tammy

At Creative Counseling

we speak often about the importance of self-care, emotional wellness, and building routines that nourish our whole selves. It’s something we encourage in our clients regularly. But sometimes, even those of us in this field—the ones who know the value of balance, rest, and regulation—can lose track of our own practices when life picks up speed.

Over the last 90 days, my plate has become incredibly full. I stepped into a demanding new full-time leadership position. I’ve continued pursuing my second master’s degree in mental health counseling. I’m also working through my clinical internship, which is deeply fulfilling, but emotionally and mentally taxing. These are all things I’m passionate about. But passion doesn't negate pressure—and somewhere along the way, my own self-care slipped further and further down the priority list.

I used to be someone who protected her routine with intention. Weekly massages were part of my rhythm, not indulgences. I traveled every few months to disconnect, reset, and refill my emotional reserves. I attended therapy biweekly, giving myself the space to process, reflect, and grow with guidance. These practices helped me stay clear, centered, and strong enough to show up fully for others.

But over the past few months, I stopped doing those things consistently. My massages became occasional, then non-existent. I haven’t taken a proper trip in months. And my therapy sessions, once biweekly anchors in my schedule, have become monthly check-ins. Not because I no longer need the support—but because I haven’t made the space.

I share this not out of guilt, but with humility. This is the reality of being human, especially in seasons of transition and responsibility. We stretch, we give, we focus—and we forget. And it’s okay to admit when we’ve let ourselves fall behind.

But here’s the reminder I’m giving myself, and maybe you need to hear it too: self-care isn’t a reward for surviving the hard stuff. It’s the thing that helps us survive in the first place. It’s not just massages and vacations—it’s permission to rest. It’s carving out space to feel and be, not just do.

So, I’m beginning again. Slowly and without shame. I'm recommitting to the small choices that reconnect me to myself. I’m remembering that consistency matters more than perfection. And I’m giving myself grace to start wherever I am—right here, right now.

To anyone else reading this who’s also been running on empty: you’re not alone. Your well-being matters. And you don’t have to wait until everything settles down to start tending to it again.

We can come home to ourselves at any time. Even now.