We hear the word self-centered and almost immediately, it comes with a sting of negativity. To be called self-centered is to be called selfish, egotistical, or self-absorbed. But this morning, I’ve been wrestling with the idea that maybe being self-centered—when understood differently—is actually a necessary act of self-love.

I’ve been reflecting on my own life lately, particularly in the face of feeling overwhelmed. If I’m honest, that’s my greatest enemy—feeling like there’s too much to do, too many hats to wear, too many people to please, and that overwhelm often leads to stagnation, to procrastination. Procrastination has a way of masquerading as rest, but it’s not rest. It’s paralysis. The longer I sit in it, the harder it is to push forward.

But where does procrastination really come from? Is it fear? Is it the weight of responsibility that hasn’t been properly prioritized? I’m starting to believe it’s a mix of both. The antidote, though, might just be this redefined concept of being self-centered. Not in the sense of selfishness, but in the sense of centering the self—of returning to your core, stepping back to refocus, and realigning your mind, body, and spirit.

My mother, Reverend Dr. Lillie M. Jones, was a master of many things. She led, she built, she taught, she nurtured. She managed a full plate with what seemed like effortless grace. But as I reflect more deeply, I realize she was able to sustain because she learned how to center herself. She knew how to delegate, how to say no, how to prioritize not just tasks, but herself. That kind of wisdom didn’t come easily. Near the end of her life, she reflected on periods when she ignored her health—when she self-medicated or dismissed warning signs because she was too busy taking care of everything and everyone else.

Eventually, it all caught up to her. The illnesses began to stack, one after the other, and the need for self-centering became a matter of survival.

That’s part of why she titled her memoir How I Got Over. It wasn’t just about her professional victories or public accomplishments. It was about the quiet, private battles—the ones she fought internally to regain her center when life became too much.

I see myself in that. I see many of my friends in that—brilliant, gifted, giving women who are quietly stuck, overwhelmed, and unsure of how to climb out of the cycle. Maybe the first step is to center ourselves again. Not out of arrogance, but out of necessity. To take inventory of what we’re carrying, to set boundaries, to breathe, to pause, to reflect.

Being self-centered in this light is an act of preservation. It is saying, “I cannot pour if I am empty. I cannot lead if I am lost within myself.”

So today, I’m choosing to reframe the narrative. To center myself without guilt. To practice saying no without explanation. To prioritize my health, my peace, my calling—not just my responsibilities.

Because the truth is, we can’t get over if we never slow down long enough to get still.

In love and charity,

Giselle (aka) Blooming-lillie