Bubble Baths Won’t Fix Burnout: Fake vs. Real Self-Care (Let’s Stop Lying to Ourselves)

Dr. Julie Sorenson

Let’s get something straight here—I don’t know who needs to hear this, but if a candle could heal burnout, not a single one of us would be dragging ourselves around every Monday morning. I mean, seriously, if bubble baths fixed anything beyond pruney toes, we’d all be enlightened, glowing and, like, completely immune to stress. Somewhere along the line, the idea of self-care just… got watered down. Turned into something you could buy in a pretty package—soft lighting, pastel colors, a hint of lavender—and suddenly, healing was just a checklist item you fit in before sleep. But here's the hard truth: that kind of self-care? It’s not broken. It's doing exactly what it was designed to do. Keep you functioning—barely—but not actually free.

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And I really want to talk about this, because a lot of us end up feeling secretly ashamed, like, "Why isn’t the bath or the meditation or the affirmation wall changing anything?" But you’re not bad at self-care. You’re burned out. And someone, somewhere, sold you a bath bomb instead of boundaries. That’s not a character flaw, that’s a side effect of a culture that confuses temporary comfort for real, actual healing. If we look at what Maslach and Leiter found—this is back in 2016—they’re pretty clear about it: burnout comes from chronic stress, a lack of support, and big, structural mismatches between what you give and what you get back—not because you forgot to buy a new journal.

Dr. Julie Sorenson

I remember, back in grad school—oh, let me tell you, I tried every single trendy “relaxation hack” during finals week. I mean, you name it: epsom salt baths, sleep meditations, twenty-minute power naps, yoga at sunrise… I even did the thing where you lay on the floor with your legs up on the wall. Did I feel better? Maybe in the moment. But at the end of the week, I was still so overwhelmed I nearly forgot what day it was. It wasn’t lack of effort, it was just that my life needed fixing a lot more than my planner did. So, if this sounds familiar: it’s not just you. And honestly, that’s sort of a relief, right?

Dr. Julie Sorenson

Okay, so let’s dig into this a little more: what’s the difference between what I call fake self-care and the real, kind of gritty, awkward self-care? It’s all about soothing versus safety. Fake self-care is all about soothing—which, hey, sometimes you do need just to breathe or take a nap—but real self-care? That asks the tougher question: why am I always so dysregulated? Why does it feel like I’m on edge all the time? According to folks like Stephen Porges—if you’ve read about the polyvagal theory—or Bessel van der Kolk, who wrote “The Body Keeps The Score,” our nervous system doesn’t fry itself because we forgot to meditate on Tuesday. It burns out after too much threat, too many demands, and not enough repair.

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Here’s the thing, Julie, fake self-care likes to whisper, “Just calm down. Manage your stress better. Try a new essential oil.” It’s these little messages telling you YOU need to get better at soothing yourself, so you can tolerate a life that’s draining you. But real self-care… real self-care is so much less cute. It sounds like, “This pace is harming me,” or, “I actually don’t need to earn my right to rest. I’m allowed to choose sustainability over someone else’s approval.” One keeps you functioning just enough not to fall apart, the other keeps you alive—in every sense.

Dr. Julie Sorenson

I agree, Kai, and I want to talk specifically to anyone who’s ever felt like self-care was about survival. Like, there have definitely been moments in my own life where I wasn’t reaching for rest because it felt good—I was reaching for it because I felt like I couldn’t go on otherwise. That, right there? Surviving, not thriving. So if you’re with me, here’s something to chew on. What would it look like if your self-care was honest, instead of just polite? Maybe—journaling prompt incoming—try this: “In the past month, what have I done because I hoped it would truly support me, and what have I done just just to get by?” Sometimes putting this on paper is more revealing than you’d think.

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Julie, let’s talk about the honest-to-goodness, uncomfortable, sometimes-awkward cost of actual, meaningful self-care. Because the thing no one advertises is that real self-care is disruptive. I mean, it can be messy. It sometimes costs you approval, maybe some access, or even a friendship you thought you needed to keep. That can look like saying “no” and being misunderstood—or honestly, resting before your body absolutely collapses, not after. There’s a reason why, as the American Psychological Association highlighted just last year, resilience without support doesn’t create strength, it creates burnout. And Linehan—if you’ve ever done any dialectical behavior therapy, you know—says healing often increases discomfort before it brings relief.

Dr. Julie Sorenson

You are exactly right, Kai and we live in a culture that, like, openly rewards self-abandonment. You get bonus points for being resilient, adaptable, “low maintenance”—for making it work at your own expense. Especially for women, caregivers, helpers—fake self-care flourishes there. But if your self-care is never challenging, never costs you anything real, never shakes up an expectation or boundary… it’s probably just coping in a silk robe, not healing. Nothing wrong with coping, but let’s call it what it is.

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I remember a story you shared with me years ago—details are changed, of course. You talked about someone you knew who tried all the wellness “treats”—the supplements, the new planners, you name it—but nothing made a dent. The breakthrough happened when they finally walked away from a workplace that was slowly draining them—no bath bomb, no positive affirmation, just a really brave, messy step away from what was making them sick. It was awkward, and honestly, pretty scary. But the transformation didn’t come from feeling relaxed for a moment; it came from changing the actual circumstances hurting them. Healing doesn’t always look peaceful when it’s happening—but if you’re in that uncomfortable stretch, that’s how you know it’s real.

Dr. Julie Sorenson

Exactly, Kai - I remember that story, that was a long time ago. So, maybe you’re listening and thinking, “Okay, where do I even start?” Sometimes real self-care is as simple as saying, “This isn’t sustainable—and I’m done pretending it is.” Maybe it's about boundaries, maybe it’s walking away, or maybe it’s just giving yourself honest permission to rest. Remember: if your self-care only changes your mood but never your circumstances, it's not self-care. It's coping. Coping is valid—but you deserve so much more than survival dressed up as wellness. That’s what we’ll keep unpacking, together, one episode at a time. Catch you next time.