What A Health Scare Taught Me About Self-Care

For years, I treated a busy diary as evidence that I was doing something right. Early calls, studio days, travel, interviews, book deadlines, family commitments and evening events all blurred into one long working week. If there was a spare hour, I found something to fill it. Rest was postponed until the next holiday, the next project, or the next quiet patch that never seemed to arrive.

Then a health scare interrupted that rhythm. It was a confronting reminder that the body keeps its own record, even when the mind is determined to push through. I had become skilled at appearing capable while quietly running on stress, poor sleep and a constant sense of urgency. The scare made that pattern impossible to ignore.

This is not a story about achieving perfect balance. I still have demanding periods, last-minute changes and days when my plans go out the window. It is a story about paying attention sooner, making preventative healthcare part of my routine and understanding that self-care is a foundation for meaningful work rather than a reward for finishing it.

That lesson matters wherever we live, including Australia, where long commutes, shift work, school runs and the pressure to be available can make wellbeing feel negotiable. Whether someone is working in Sydney, managing a small business in Brisbane, travelling between Melbourne meetings or doing FIFO work in Western Australia, personal health cannot remain permanently at the bottom of the list.

The Warning Signs I Had Normalised

The earliest signs were easy to explain away. I blamed tiredness on a packed schedule, headaches on too much screen time and irritability on the pressure of getting everything done. When sleep became broken, I assumed it was simply part of a demanding season. This is how neglect often develops: there is rarely one dramatic decision to ignore yourself, but a series of small permissions to carry on.

A busy career can make overwork look virtuous. There is admiration for the person who answers emails late at night, flies in for an event and still manages the school run the next morning. In broadcasting and public life, reliability matters, so I had trained myself to be available. The trouble was that availability gradually became an identity.

I also underestimated the way hormonal changes, emotional strain and cumulative stress can overlap. Women can spend years interpreting genuine symptoms as personal shortcomings: being less patient, less energetic or less focused. I now believe that tracking changes in mood, sleep, energy and physical health is a practical act of self-respect, not self-obsession.

A health scare creates a pause that ordinary busyness does not. It takes the vague feeling that something is wrong and gives it weight. The most useful response is to seek proper medical advice rather than diagnose yourself through late-night searches. A GP, specialist or qualified health professional can help separate stress from symptoms that deserve investigation.

Self-Care Became A Health Practice

Before the scare, I associated self-care with occasional treats: a massage, a quiet bath, a nice meal or a weekend away. Those things can be lovely, but they cannot compensate for months of exhaustion. Genuine self-care is more ordinary and much less glamorous. It means sleeping at a reasonable hour, eating regularly, booking appointments and noticing when your capacity is shrinking.

I started treating health appointments with the same seriousness as a television commitment. They went into the diary, and I stopped moving them simply because work appeared. In Australia, that may mean arranging a Medicare appointment with a GP, asking about recommended screenings, finding a bulk-billing clinic where available or allowing time for a longer consultation. The details vary, but the principle is steady: preventative care needs a place in the calendar.

Movement also changed meaning for me. I no longer saw exercise only as a way to alter my appearance or meet a performance target. A walk, a swim, Pilates session or gentle strength workout can support sleep, mood, mobility and energy. A stroll along a beach in Queensland, a loop through a Melbourne park or a brisk walk before the school run all count when they are approached as care rather than punishment.

I became more honest about mental health as well. Breathing exercises, counselling, journalling and time away from noise are useful tools, but they are not substitutes for professional support when someone is struggling. Asking for help early is a sign of judgement. It protects relationships, decision-making and the ability to keep showing up in a sustainable way.

Boundaries Protect The Work

A boundary is often described as something we do to keep other people out. I have come to see it as a way of protecting what matters. If I accept every invitation, answer every message immediately and agree to every deadline, I may look committed for a while, but the quality of my work and my presence with loved ones will eventually suffer.

I now look at a week as a whole before accepting new work. Travel time, preparation, recovery and personal commitments all belong in the calculation. A speaking engagement might be stimulating and worthwhile, yet it still has an energetic cost. Building in breathing space after a major event can make the difference between feeling fulfilled and becoming depleted.

This is particularly important when your work is public. There is pressure to look polished, composed and camera-ready, even when life behind the scenes is complicated. Good portrait editing guidance can help with presentation, but no image can replace genuine wellbeing. Looking well and feeling well are related, yet they are not the same thing.

Boundaries also involve technology. I have learned to create periods when the phone is out of reach, notifications are limited and work conversations stop. That may be difficult for someone running a business across time zones or managing a large online community, but a response does not have to be instant to be professional. Clear expectations often reduce anxiety for everyone.

A Career Has Seasons

There have been periods when work needed to take priority, and there will be more of them. Live broadcasting, book launches, public speaking and event hosting all involve intensity. The mistake is assuming that an intense month can become an intense year without consequences.

Thinking in seasons allows for more realistic planning. A launch season may require longer days, followed by a deliberate period of restoration. A family transition, health appointment or personal crisis may reduce availability for a time. Career progression does not depend on being at maximum output every day of the year.

I have also become more careful about the opportunities I accept. The right work should connect with my values, whether that involves women’s wellbeing, resilience, leadership or personal growth. My press and media work reflects a public career, but the public record never captures every private decision required to sustain it.

For Australians, seasonality can look different depending on the industry. Retail and hospitality workers may face Christmas intensity; people in education may experience the end-of-term rush; farmers respond to weather and harvest conditions; and FIFO workers manage demanding rosters followed by time at home. Every career has pressure points. Planning recovery around them is a practical form of leadership.

Small Rituals Create Stability

The routines that help me most are simple enough to repeat. I try to begin the day without immediately handing my attention to a screen. I drink water, eat something nourishing and check how I am feeling before rushing into other people’s priorities. That short pause can reveal whether I need to adjust the day rather than barrel through it.

Evenings benefit from a similar landing space. Turning down bright screens, preparing for the next morning and giving myself permission to stop working can settle the nervous system. I enjoy small pleasures that make home feel restorative, including the personal items and everyday comforts gathered in my favourite things. They are reminders that wellbeing is built from ordinary details.

Connection is another form of maintenance. A proper conversation with a friend, a walk with someone I love or a meal without phones can restore perspective. Busy people often communicate through logistics, discussing lifts, appointments and deadlines while forgetting to ask how everyone is actually coping.

I have learned to measure a good day by more than output. If I complete an important task but remain tense, disconnected and exhausted, the result is incomplete. A successful day can include meaningful work, a healthy meal, a laugh, a walk and enough sleep to begin again with clarity.

Making Self-Care A Shared Priority

Self-care becomes easier when it is not treated as a private battle. At work, leaders can model reasonable response times, proper breaks and honest conversations about capacity. Teams are more likely to raise concerns when wellbeing is recognised as part of performance rather than an inconvenience.

It is also worth reviewing the practical systems around a demanding career. Delegation, childcare, meal preparation, bookkeeping, transport and calendar management may sound mundane, yet they can release enormous mental pressure. A useful skills audit, such as the resources available through workplace skills support, can prompt a fresh look at what should be learned, shared or outsourced.

The following shifts capture how my thinking changed after the health scare:

Habits Worth Protecting

• Book health appointments early and keep them in the diary.
• Notice changes in sleep, mood, energy and physical symptoms before they become overwhelming.
• Build recovery time around travel, launches, events and other high-pressure periods.
• Create clear work boundaries for evenings, weekends and digital communication.
• Choose movement that feels sustainable, whether it is walking, swimming, strength training or stretching.
• Make room for nourishing food, supportive relationships and proper rest.
• Ask for professional help when stress, anxiety or physical symptoms persist.

The biggest lesson was not that I should stop caring about my career. My work remains deeply important to me. The lesson was that caring about the work requires caring for the person who does it. Ambition, service and creativity need energy, and energy is not an unlimited resource.

A health scare can make the future feel uncertain, but it can also clarify what deserves attention now. Self-care is not stepping away from responsibility. It is choosing to remain present, capable and well enough to participate in the life and career we have worked so hard to build.