What True Self-Love Actually Means

A moment from my life…

I was standing in the kitchen, reheating a cup of tea I’d already reheated twice. After all, I’m notorious for holding a cup (or a water bottle, for that matter) more as an accessory than as something whose contents I meaningfully consume.

The dishwasher was open. My phone was face down on the counter. There were two emails I hadn’t answered, a text I’d been meaning to get back to for two days, a feeling of lingering frustration that’d been there since morning that I still hadn’t had time to tend to, and that subtle sense of not being good enough and being behind in my own life.

I could feel myself not liking where I was. The apparent imperfection… of my life… of me… was staring me in the face. And that’s when I could feel all of the impulses in me trying to help me become someone better and more lovable in real time… someone more organized, more responsive, less sensitive, less anxious about being behind, more grateful, less complicated, and just better at life… all before the clock had even struck noon.

My mind wasn’t loudly criticizing me, and my thoughts weren’t spiraling, but I could no doubt feel that subtle internal pull to fix myself and improve myself as a condition for finally accepting and loving myself.

“If I can just get it together… tick all these boxes… manage my feelings better… feel less feelings altogether… and just be more balanced, regulated, and on top of things, then I’ll deserve love and care.”

It was the opposite of self-love. And I could feel it in my skin and bones — the way my body and mind were equating the untended feelings, the unanswered messages, and the baseline anxiousness to me somehow not being fundamentally okay and loveable just as I am.

Needless to say, it didn’t feel good.

Maybe you can relate.

The Version of Self-Love Many of Us Were Taught

So often, I hear people talking about self-love as confidence: saying something good about ourselves. Or referring to self-love as having good boundaries: finally saying no, speaking up, and no longer letting others override us. Or defining it as morning routines that have us in the gym or meditating or writing in our gratitude journals before we tend to our kids or our careers and everything and everyone else. Or equating it to speaking kindly to ourselves in the mirror: offering ourselves words we wish came more naturally. Or becoming secure: no longer rattled by texts, distance, uncertainty, or someone else’s mood. Or improving our appearance, our achievements, our productivity, our ability to stay calm and manage our feelings better. Or becoming the version of us who no longer overthinks texts, gets jealous, gets anxious, procrastinates, shuts down, people-pleases, needs reassurance, cries in the car, feels too much at dinner, or is affected a lot by life.

And many of these things can totally be supportive (if you read my blog, you probably know how much I love a good journaling session, boundary setting, or dance workout). But, the question I often ask myself is “What energy am I doing that thing with?” Am I setting boundaries because I respect myself? Or because some subtle inner voice says I need to be stronger, cooler, less needy, or more impressive? Am I journaling because it nourishes me? Or because I’m trying to become better and more acceptable? Am I growing… or trying to escape myself?

Because without realizing it, self-love can become something we imagine we’ll earn later… that it’s the reward we’ll receive once we’ve improved enough… once we’re easier to live with… easier to manage… easier to admire… easier to love.

Without realizing it, many of us think of self-love as something we’ll earn once we’ve improved enough and we’re easier to love. 

But Love That Changes Us Feels Different

But true self-love… the kind that changes something deep inside us… asks much more of us than liking ourselves when we’re doing well or saying encouraging things to ourselves in the mirror. It asks much more of us than affirmation and admiration.

It asks us to love ourselves right here and right now. Not only once the body changes. Not only once the career clicks. Not only once the inbox is clear. Not only once we become calmer, shinier, more accomplished, and more easy to approve of. 

And it asks for relationship. By relationship, I mean an ongoing way of relating to ourselves that includes listening, honesty, understanding, compassion, boundaries, and presence.

And most importantly, it doesn’t ask for relationship only with the polished parts of us. And not for relationship with ourselves just when we perform well and get to give ourselves a high-five. Because most of us already know how to love and support the socially rewarded parts of us that others like.

But a relationship with the parts we were taught to reject and hide — like the parts I mentioned being aware of that morning before the clock even had a chance to hit noon. That’s where true self-love takes root.

True self-love means loving the parts we were taught to reject.

Think about it… many of these parts (the one who’s anxious, the one who people-pleases, the one who strives endlessly to achieve, etc.) began as adaptive responses… ways of protecting us, reducing pain, helping us not lose connection, or helping us survive something we didn’t yet know how to carry.

And yet, we tend to shame these very parts that once tried to save us.

… the anxious part of you that reads into every pause in someone’s voice because unpredictability once hurt.

… the people-pleasing part of you that keeps the peace, even when it costs you, because honesty didn’t always feel safe.

… the jealous part of you that feels a sting when someone else has what you deeply want, and wonders what that means about your own life.

… the lonely part of you just wants real connection in a world that can feel so isolating.

… the forgetful part of you that loses things, forgets things, and feels like you’re always starting over.

… the overwhelmed part of you that feels like you can’t take in one more thing, even when there’s still more to do.

… the striving part of you that keeps pushing and achieving because s/he believes achievement is the closest thing to feeling safe and worthy.

… the shut-down part of you that goes quiet or checks out when everything feels like too much.

… the sensitive part who feels things deeply in situations other people seem to move through more easily.

… the part of you that still hurts as if she were twelve, even after therapy, insight, books, meditation, and courageous, boundary-setting conversations.

What If These Parts Aren’t the Problem?

Society often treats these parts like evidence that something is wrong with us. And so we learn to do it too. As if something in the design was supposed to turn out one way… and somehow we came out all wrong.

Wouldn’t you agree? It’s so rare to find someone who thinks: I’m so glad I’m anxious. Or Yay, I people-pleased again today. Or Wonderful… more big feelings!

But, most of these parts of us didn’t begin as flaws or nuisances. Far from it. As I mentioned, they began as a form of intelligence… as creative attempts to protect a younger version of us… to reduce pain, to not let us feel left out or rejected, to help us hold onto some sense that we were still okay, to help us not lose the people we needed, or to help us make it through experiences we were simply too young, overwhelmed, or unequipped to handle.

And, when we only see these parts of us as defects, we treat ourselves with contempt and criticism when actually compassion is what’s needed most.

We think things like:

Why am I still like this?
I should be past this by now.
Ugh, this is embarrassing.
Other people do much better at this.
I need to fix myself.

And inside, the very parts of us that already carry the pain, fear, insecurity, loneliness, or old shame hear something devastatingly familiar:

There it is again. Proof that something is wrong with you. 

So naturally, they get louder.

… the anxious part tightens its grip.

… the people-pleasing part works harder to please.

… the striving part burns us out trying to earn rest.

… the shut-down part disappears for days from a relationship or commitment.

… the jealous part becomes more reactive.

… the lonely part retreats and calls it independence.

… the forgetful part gets more scattered under pressure.

… the overwhelmed part shuts down even more.

… the sensitive part feels more loudly when repeatedly dismissed.

And, this continues for as long as our parts sense that we believe there is something wrong with them. It happens when we ignore them outright… and it also happens when we say things like “I’m working on my healing”, “I’m growing”, or “I’m working on my happiness”… all the while continuing to judge and abandon the very parts of us that most need love.

The parts of us that need love most are often the ones we keep leaving behind.

How We Turn Against Ourselves

We don’t usually reject ourselves in some dramatic, reality-TV worthy way. We usually do it in many moments spread out over the many ordinary moments of our lives.

You snap at your partner because you’re overwhelmed from a long day.

You obsess over someone pulling away.

You say ‘yes’ when you mean ‘no’.

You compare yourself to a friend and feel ashamed..

You lose an afternoon to scrolling because your nervous system is tired and avoiding one more thing that needs to get done.

And then, instead of treating ourselves with care or at least neutrally, we launch an internal prosecution that goes something like this:

What’s wrong with me?!
Here we go again…
I thought I was past this!
Why can’t I just be normal or like [insert the name of the person you compare yourself to most]?

It can sound like we’re trying to do better… like we’re being self-aware… like we’re improving ourselves… but what’s actually happening is we’re turning against ourselves. And this is not self-love. It’s self-abandonment dressed up as self-improvement.

This is not self-love. It’s self-abandonment dressed up as self-improvement.

When Love Enters the Room…

What if, right in the middle of one of those moments, something different shows up? Not perfection or enlightenment or some big transformation, but just a little more love…

Instead of launching an internal prosecution, we pause. We get curious.

Oh… the overwhelmed part is here.

Oh… the anxious part is here.

Not: Here we go again.

Not: I thought I was past this.

Not: Ugh. Why am I so flawed?!

Just: Something in me is trying to help, trying to make this feel a little safer… or a little easier, even if it learned that way a long time ago.

That shift can feel small, even a little unimpressive. But something inside you feels it. Because instead of being at war with yourself, you’re finally understanding yourself in that moment.

What Happens When We Stop Fighting Ourselves

When something inside you senses: Someone is finally listening… Someone is not trying to push me away today… things really do begin to change.

I mean, imagine trying to help someone the only way you know how… and being hated every time you do it! Every time you show up to help, the person you’re trying to help misunderstands you, criticizes you, shames you, and rejects you.

Would you ease up, slow down, quiet down? … Or would you become louder, more frantic, more desperate to be heard?

That’s often how our inner parts respond too.

So when that shift happens ‘in here’ — when you start to listen and something in you feels understood instead of judged — something changes. Parts of you stop feeling like they need to run the show of your life and from there, things shift ‘out there’ too.

Your anxiety might ease up a little.

You might not feel like you have to keep everyone happy right then.

That pressure to keep going might let up.

You might feel a little less alone.

And you might not shut down as quickly.

This is why real self-love often looks much less glamorous than we imagine…

It may not look like extreme confidence or perfect boundaries or a flawless morning routine. Instead, it may look like taking a breath and saying, I’m overwhelmed, instead of pretending you’re fine. It may look like noticing jealousy in your body and asking what fear is below it. It may look like resting before you’ve earned it by getting everything perfectly done. It may look like apologizing without collapsing into shame. It may look like leaving the dishes for tomorrow. It may look like putting a hand on your heart when grief returns unexpectedly. It may look like speaking to yourself with dignity on a day you do not feel impressive.

There’s a kind of happiness that comes from being admired, successful, and polished. And there’s another kind that comes from no longer being at war with yourself.

That second one isn’t as glamorous. It’s definitely not as photogenic or perfect-looking. But it is so much more real and stable and nourishing. And it’s available for you on messy Tuesdays, anxious Thursdays, and feeling-it-all Fridays alike!

The Essence of it All: You Don’t Need to Become Someone Else

At its core, what I’m really saying is this: You don’t have to become someone else to love yourself well. You may just need a kinder relationship with the one you already are.

And that happens every time you widen the circle of the parts or aspects of you that are allowed to be loved. Especially the parts you learned to hide… especially the ones who embarrass you… especially the ones you’ve been hardest on these last 5, 10, or 20 years.

If this touches something real in you, you’re not alone. This is the kind of inner work we practice in my Heart Share Circles and inside my course Happy from the Inside Out… spaces where all of you is welcome, not just the polished, easy-to-approve-of parts.