It took me a long time to admit that writing was more than a hobby for me.
Not because it wasn’t serious.
But because somewhere along the way, I absorbed the idea that if I was doing something with my time, it had to be productive (working for pay, folding the laundry, cooking dinner, working out). And if it wasn’t productive, it had to be self-care, and in order to count, it had to be fully relaxing.
Writing didn’t seem to fit neatly into either category. It didn’t (doesn’t) pay the bills, and it’s not restful either.
Self-care tends to get framed as bubble baths, skincare routines, mani/pedis, and deep breaths while staring out a window. (No shade. I love a mani/pedi with my whole heart.)
But writing isn’t any of that. Writing asks something of me. It requires my brain. My energy. And for a long time, I thought that disqualified it. So, since it wasn’t productive enough for productive time or rejuvenating enough for self-care time, it rarely happened.
What I’ve learned, however, is this:
Writing is valuable because it fills me.
Not because it pays the mortgage (yet).
Not because it checks something off a list.
Not because everything else is done.
But because when I pull out my notebook and my fountain pen (yes it’s pretentious, but it’s also pink, and I love it so, so, so much), I feel like myself.
Writing reminds me who I am underneath the schedules and snacks and invoices and grocery lists. It’s how I process, imagine, and reconnect with the part of me that existed before—and alongside—my role as “mommy! mommy! mommy! mommy! mommy!”
One day over Christmas break, loving my time with Mark but running on fumes, I sat down next to him and his Play-Dough and wrote a poem.
It wasn’t long, and it wasn’t even very good, but it felt amazing.
It felt like me.
So I made a promise to myself for 2026: When I’m having trouble giving myself permission to write creatively, for no other purpose than to feel pen on paper, I’m going to go back to that moment and remind myself that my “nonproductive” writing is a form of self-care.
To make it a little easier, because I’m an analog girlie at heart, I’m pledging to carry my notebook and my pen with me everywhere I go.
Writing Restores More Than It Takes
Yes, writing requires energy, but if you’re anything like me, it also restores energy.
It can give us back so much:
clarity
joy
identity
grounding
emotional space
That isn’t indulgent or frivolous or selfish. It’s sustaining.
It’s not as effortless as a mani/pedi or a bubble bath, but it’s more than worth the effort.
And because of everything writing can give…
Writing Isn’t Stealing Time from Your Family
This is important. It’s so easy to fall into that mindset that everything you do must be in service of your family, or else you’re basically stealing from them. First of all, that’s false, and I swear one day I’ll believe it, too! But even inside of that belief, writing for yourself has an important place.
When you make space to write, you’re not taking anything away. The time you spend on yourself returns to your family one million times over in the form of steadiness, joy, patience, and energy.
Your family doesn’t need you depleted.
They benefit from you being fulfilled and confident in your identity. And if writing enables you to do that, then it’s no longer a selfish act in any way, shape, or form.
Let Writing Take Care of You, Too
If you’ve been treating your creativity like something you need to earn—or postpone until you’ve cleared your to-do list—I hope this year you shift that perspective.
Writing doesn’t have to justify itself by being profitable or polished. If it fills you, that’s enough.
And if you think you’d benefit from support in making writing a consistent, life-giving form of self-care—not another thing you guilt yourself over—I’d love to invite you into The Inkwell.
It’s a gentle, structured space for writers in busy seasons who want to show up for their creativity now—without burning out or waiting for perfect conditions.
You deserve self-care that fits your real life, profitable or not. And writing can be a central part of that care.