We’ve all seen it: the endless Instagram posts about “self-care Sundays,” reminders to “protect your peace,” and the rise of the “independent girl boss” mantra. It’s sold to us, specifically to women, as empowerment — a way to navigate the chaos of everyday stress. We all known that oftentimes taking care of your body is the first thing that falls from your daily to do's when in stress. Even though exercising, preparing healthy food, taking rest is obviously very important for your wellbeing. Therefore, at first glance, it feels like progress that younger generations are more and more focused on mental health and work-life balance.
The way to do all this self-care besides having a nine to five job is to be more productive, organize better and set up your perfect routine. From “habit stacking” to “non-negotiables,” the self-help industry preaches productivity as a path to personal fulfillment. But this obsession with efficiency often comes at a cost. When every hour of the day is meticulously planned and every moment is accounted for, what’s left for the spontaneous joys of life?
The idea of “self-care” has been co-opted to fuel the capitalist machine, subtly pushing us to see time spent on anything other than self-optimization as wasteful.
This simple act of prioritizing others, of willingly sacrificing personal productivity for the sake of community, can be a powerful form of self-care. Yet, in a culture where success is often measured by individual achievements, we’ve been conditioned to think that any time spent on others detracts from our personal growth.
The "independent girl boss" trope feeds into this illusion of self-sufficiency. It glamorizes the idea of being wholly independent, needing nothing from anyone else—a dangerous narrative that overlooks the fact that no one, no matter how successful, truly thrives alone. This form of hyper-individualism isolates us, convincing us that asking for help or relying on others is a sign of weakness.
Especially when you’re working 40 hours a week, 9 to 5, the only way for many people to maintain that lifestyle is through a strict routine: booking Pilates classes, meal prepping, and structuring every detail. This routine becomes essential to maintaining physical and mental health in order to endure such a demanding work life. As a result, community gets relegated to the weekend—Friday night drinks, Sunday morning brunch. That’s the only consistent access to community, especially if you live alone.
But if you live in a communal space—whether with friends, housemates, or family—you can’t adhere to this routine as rigidly. In the TikTok from @jordstac about the concept of "community disrupts routine", she elaborates on this by saying: "The other day I came home from work exhausted, planning to just go to yoga and then head to bed. But when I got home, someone I live with had a terrible day. And being part of a community means being there for others, so I set aside my routine. Obviously, I couldn’t just say, “Sorry, you’re disrupting my schedule; I’m off to yoga.” I gave time to my community instead."
There's this constant push and pull between routine and community. Because of working in a capitalistic society with a focus on working and consuming we have limited time for either ourselves or the people around us, forcing us to constantly choose.
Furthermore, our culture of hyper-individualism has led to the rise of what some call the “if not, no worries” phenomenon. We make plans with others, but we immediately undercut our requests by adding, "If you're busy, no worries!"—a preemptive strike against rejection. It’s a way to protect ourselves from disappointment, but it also weakens our own needs. We’re so scared of being a burden that we don’t trust our friends to say no if they genuinely can’t accommodate us. We shrink our needs to make ourselves more palatable, more independent, more self-reliant. But in doing so, we miss out on the deep connections that come from vulnerability.
As The Washington Post wrote about in their article "Would you be mine? Could you be mine? Would you be my friend?", If you want close friendships, we need to act as if we're already in them. Give people the opportunity to care about you. There's this thing called risk taking in a friendship. For a friendship to deepen, it involves a risk: asking for something and not knowing how they'll answer; putting yourself out there at the risk of being "too much"; asking a new person out on a friend date. That feels very vulnerable. But it's also the only way to start a good friendship.
Our society has also come to dismiss casual, “low-stakes” friendships. We've been conditioned to think that unless a friendship is intense and all-consuming, it isn’t worth much. Especially in the current digital age where we have always-on, never-ending streams of communication, we're caught in a web of perpetual availability, where the line between connecting and intruding blurs, and the pressure to be constantly "on" for our friends becomes psychologically taxing.
As @maalvika wrote in her Substack "more on low-stakes friendships", the rise of social media has created a culture of performative friendship, where depth is often measured by the frequency and intensity of interactions. But this overlooks the value of casual connections, or "weak ties," as sociologist Mark Granovetter famously called them.
These weaker, more casual friendships are essential for social mobility, the diffusion of ideas, and overall mental well-being. Not every relationship needs to be high-stakes or deeply emotional. Sometimes, just having someone to share a laugh with over a coffee break or run errands with can be just as fulfilling as a deep, late-night heart-to-heart. These interactions are about simply enjoying each other's company, without the pressure of constant emotional availability.
In a society that glorifies independence, one of the most radical acts of resistance is building true community. To care for one another—not as a transaction, but as a genuine act of love and support—is a form of defiance against the capitalist system that seeks to isolate us. Whether it’s running errands with friends, taking down Christmas decorations with your neighbor, or offering a favor without expecting anything in return, these acts of community care are the essence of real self-care.
We have to choose community over routine more often. We should be vulnerable to build intimate friendships. Give the other the opportunity to care about you. But do not expect that that one friend will fill all your emotional needs. It's alright to have one friend for deep chats and another for going out nights. We have to show up for each other and take a risk sometimes. Please ask a stranger how he's doing this week.
(..) because I want to move synchronically with others. Literally. It's a reminder that the world isn't such a lonely place after all. And this coordination is what I missed so much while being a digital nomad. The ability to sacrifice my time for other people. To collaborate. To spend this short life on earth in good company. So just give it a try. Loosen the iron grip over your schedule. Say yes to that invitation. Sign up for that dance class. Sacrifice your sacred hours of productivity for a family breakfast. - Stephan Joppich on his blog about the book Four Thousand Weeks
MORE SHIZZLE THAT I WANT TO WRITE ABOUT OR INCLUDE OR EXTEND IN OTHER NOTES
- People don't have a hobby anymore. Nothing to stimulate their brain, outside of thinking about work, relationships or their home. Try something you haven't tried before. Challenge yourself.
- The purpose of life is to live it. You do not need a passion.
- Third places: you can only find a routine within your own house, instead of in third places makes it more lonely
(...) because I want to move synchronically with others. Literally. It's a reminder that the world isn't such a lonely place after all. And this coordination is what I missed so much while being a digital nomad. The ability to sacrifice my time for other people. To collaborate. To spend this short life on earth in good company. So just give it a try. Loosen the iron grip over your schedule. Say yes to that invitation. Sign up for that dance class. Sacrifice your sacred hours of productivity for a family breakfast. (Stephan Joppich on his blog about the book Four Thousand Weeks)
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"Would you be mine? Could you be mine? Won't you be my friend" by The Washington Post about how to make friends feel like family -> small favors.
- If you want close, family-level friendships, we need to act as if we're already in them. Give people the opportunity to care about you. There's this thing called risk taking in a friendship. For a friendship to deepen, it involves a risk: asking for something and not knowing how they'll answer, putting yourself out there at the risk of being "too much", asking a new person out on a friend date. That's vulnerable but also the only way to start a good friendship.
- It is statistically shown that if an individual performs a favor for another person, their liking for that person will increase.
- People fear to need people or being a burden or taking someone else's time. This is the "if not, no worries" culture. ("What do we owe our friends?" podcast by How to Talk to People).
- Our flaking culture and its consequences
- Why do we say "if not, no worries": we literally retract our request. People are scared to be turned down and do it to protect ourself. Other people do it to let the other people know they won't hurt my feelings with a no and they don't have to feel uncomfortable saying no and protecting their boundaries. However, people are sad if people weaken my needs and flake. It weakens your own request in order to make yourself less vulnerable. Also, should we not trust our friends to say no?
- Why do friendships often feel like a business interaction
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Rebel against the culture of hyper individualism back towards tribalism and community
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Communication skills have decreased maybe?
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Run errands with friends, help them take down holiday decorations or organize the garage. Stop waiting for events or drinks or having someone play host. Do life with the people you want in your life. Treat your friendships as if you would a romantic relationship.
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Artikel: In defence of low-stakes friendships by Daze Digital.
In recent years, pop culture has valorised intense, passionate female friendship: from the ironclad connection between Sex and the City’s four protagonists, to hot-and-cold BFFs Marnie and Hannah from Lena Dunham’s Girls, to the deep, decades-long bond between Dolly Alderton and her best friend Farly Kleiner explored in Alderton’s autobiographical book Everything I Know About Love. We’re often told that we shouldn’t settle for anything ‘less’ than these kinds of all-or-nothing friendships – and while it’s been heartwarming to see these potent, platonic relationships between women so celebrated, it’s fair to say that it’s now become common for any friendship operating at a lower level of intensity to be regarded with a heavy dose of suspicion.
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In Substack van @maalvika "more on low-stakes friendships", she mentions:
- The value of these casual connections was highlighted in Mark Granovetter's seminal 1973 paper, "The Strength of Weak Ties." Granovetter argued that these "weak ties" are essential for social mobility and the diffusion of information and ideas. In essence, our low-stakes friendships serve as bridges to different social circles, exposing us to diverse perspectives and opportunities that might not otherwise cross our paths.
- Yet, in our current cultural moment, these casual friendships are often viewed with suspicion or dismissed as superficial. The prevailing narrative suggests that real friendship requires constant communication, emotional availability, and a level of commitment that borders on the all-consuming. But when we expect every friendship to meet these lofty standards, we're almost guaranteed to be left disappointed—it's simply unsustainable to demand so much from every connection.
- To understand this trend, we need to examine the cultural forces that have shaped it. The rise of social media has created a culture of performative friendship, where the depth of one's connections is often measured by the frequency of interactions and the intensity of shared experiences. Simultaneously, the self-help industry has boomed, popularizing psychological concepts and therapeutic language.
- These factors have converged to create a perfect storm of overintellectualization in our personal relationships. We've been conditioned to believe that every interaction must be deep, meaningful, and emotionally productive. But in our quest to optimize our friendships, we may be losing sight of what friendship is fundamentally about: feeling good in each other's company.
- The digital revolution has rewritten the rules of friendship maintenance, turning our relationships into always-on, never-ending streams of communication. While the ability to instantly share life's moments and engage in real-time conversations across vast distances seems like a friendship superpower, it's created a paradoxical predicament. We're caught in a web of perpetual availability, where the line between connecting and intruding blurs, and the pressure to be constantly "on" for our friends becomes psychologically taxing. The Read receipt has become a digital anxiety trigger, and delayed responses are often misinterpreted as personal slights. We've entered an era of "friendship FOMO," where we feel compelled to digitally participate in every aspect of our friends' lives lest we miss out on some crucial connection.
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BDolly Alderton's writing about friendships