If anything is symbolic of how much my life has changed, I can boil it down to two possessions: my down duvet and my electric blanket.

I live in a very cold house. For some reason, three houses in a row have been north-facing, but still cold, cold, cold.

Highveld winters are merciless, and these old houses are hard to heat. And for years, my co-sleeper ran much hotter than I did, so I spent winter nights bundled up like a two-year-old whose mother is getting cold, in an effort to stay warm under a fairly lightweight duvet.

The joy of climbing into a warm bed under a marshmallowy, pouffey duvet has never faded. I climb into bed on winter nights and beam from ear to ear. I am the human equivalent of my Labrador, who wags his tail every time he lies down to sleep.

But it wasn’t always that way. In fact, it’s taken concerted effort to get there.

And then I was single again, and I could choose myself for what felt like the first time in decades.

As soon as I was able to save up my pennies, when the next winter snap blasted through my home, I invested in a down duvet. Later, at 2am in the coldest of those three houses, I ordered an electric blanket.

I’m a people pleaser, you see. Come to my house, and I will do my best to make you comfortable, and help you to feel at home.

I like to take care of those around me. I work hard to create an environment that is welcoming, warm and filled with laughter.

The guest room is bright and ready for action. The sheets are crisp and white. The towels are thick and fluffy, the Wi-Fi password is framed for you to find. There might be fruit or snacks. There will be a carafe of water. You’ll be very well fed.

There are just two rules: 1. Make yourself at home. 2. If all else fails, refer to Rule 1.

People love to come and stay, and I don’t say that to brag. But the fact that they are pleased is what pleases me.

I should clarify that this doesn’t only apply to guests. I spent years trying very hard to please everyone I encountered – family, friends, strangers, everyone.

There’s nothing wrong with this, of course, but when this becomes your default setting, you run the risk of tipping over onto its darker side. First, you avoid conflict.

Conflict isn’t comfortable. It doesn’t give you the warm-and-fuzzies. Second, you spend so much time looking after other people, that you forget to make yourself comfortable. To make yourself at home.

You forget that you’re also allowed to have a say in something as simple as your own sleeping temperature – or at least, that’s what I did.

The result was burnout. Because everything was out of balance. I was so focused on making everyone else around me comfortable that I completely wore myself out.

I ended up a broken shell of a person, constantly anticipating everyone else’s needs, and trying to ward off conflict at every turn.

I tell people now that I’m a recovering people pleaser – because I don’t think I’ll ever lose that inclination.

It’s a daily battle I fight, to give myself permission to take care of myself.

And no, that doesn’t mean I’m selfish in the negative sense of that word.

I am selfish in a positive way, though. Because I am considering my own needs, my own comfort, my own values before I say “yes” to something I really should have said “no” too.

Now, I’m clear on what I will and won’t tolerate. I know what I do and don’t enjoy. I know who I enjoy spending time with, and who I don’t.

I recognise the people who are only interested in what they can get out of a friendship with me.

I say “no” more often – to invitations, to events, to requests for my time, to things that simply don’t interest me.

I carve out time for myself where I can be by myself and recharge. I allow myself to rest. I have boundaries.

Boundaries are hard, I know. Other people don’t like it when you erect them, and you may well get pushback.

But just as you erect a wall around your property to keep intruders out – and then allow only certain people onto your property – boundaries keep you safe. And they are for your wellbeing, not the wellbeing of those who are only looking to take things from you.

They allow you to feel safe. And when you are safe, then you can start to relax, start to feel comfortable.

For me, that’s the true definition of self-care. It’s not bubble baths or pedicures or full body massages – although I am completely open to all of those options, to be clear.

No, it’s more about the contentment that settles over my body as I enjoy a solitary cup of tea on my deck at sunset after a long day of work, or sink into my pillowy, warm bed.

These days, Rule 1 doesn’t only apply to guests anymore – I’m learning to abide by that rule myself, and on the days I slip, I read Rule 2.