Does anyone actually love themself?

Maybe loving yourself is quieter and closer than you think

I want to talk about something that can feel almost out of reach. Something we’re told we should have figured out by now.

Loving yourself.

I was speaking with someone this week about choosing yourself and building a life that’s true to you, and how that choice can slowly grow into loving yourself.

They paused and said, “Does anyone actually love themself?”

And I felt how real that question is.

Because loving yourself can feel impossibly far away, especially if you learned to hide parts of yourself. If you were told you were too much. Too sensitive. Too dramatic. Too needy. If being accepted meant editing yourself. If you had to override your needs and now... you’re not sure how to listen to them.

I used to think I loved myself. Or at least, that’s what I’d say. Because we’re told it’s good to love ourselves. Necessary, even.

So, as achievers and people-pleasers, we do what we’ve always done: we try to get it right.

I must love myself, we tell ourselves. But that doesn’t mean we actually feel it. Especially since we’ve been told how to feel for so long.

What I’ve learned, and what I want to offer here, is that loving yourself is often much closer than we think. It’s quieter. Softer. Truer. It doesn’t crash over you like a wave. You might not even really notice it at first.

When you begin to gently uncover who you are beneath all the noise, beneath everything you were told you should do and feel… something changes. You start to recognize yourself. You see how you adapted. How you protected yourself. How you kept going when you didn’t know another way.

And sometimes, in that recognition, there’s a feeling that surprises you. Gratitude. Warmth. Tenderness. It’s like a quiet whisper that says “Oh, hey, I remember you. I see you. I get you.”

And the more you see yourself, the more it starts to feel… a bit like love.

One of the things that makes this hard to notice is that we’re taught to think of love (especially romantic love) as big and loud. Grand gestures, overwhelming certainty, and bold declarations.

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But real love rarely looks like that. It shows up in the quiet moments. Like listening when someone shares their feelings. Offering compassion instead of judgment. Feeling grateful for who they are, not just what they do.

I used to imagine loving myself would look like how we were taught. I pictured a woman striding confidently down the street. No doubts, no insecurities, no second-guessing. Just completely certain, unbothered, and untouchable.

But loving yourself doesn’t usually arrive like that. It arrives when you begin choosing yourself in small, almost unremarkable ways. When you slow down enough to listen. When you start to tell the difference between your voice and everyone else’s… and gently choose yours.

The more you listen, the more you trust it. The more you trust it, the more care you offer.

And somewhere in that care, love begins to grow.

You won’t always feel confident or certain. And it’s not something you achieve. It’s definitely not another performance. Rather, it’s a quiet, steady relationship with yourself that comes in the pauses and moments you stop abandoning yourself.

Maybe that’s what loving yourself actually is.

What’s one small way you might show yourself some love this week?

And if love feels like a stretch, what about gratitude? Because I know you’ve been carrying a lot, and you deserve so much gratitude and kindness.

Write soon… with love,

If this resonated, you’re very welcome here. I write for people exhausted from living by other people’s expectations, and want to reconnect with their pace, needs and truth.

You’re welcome to subscribe for free, or go a little deeper through a paid option with more personal reflections and guided practices.

And, you’re not alone. If you want support learning to choose yourself, I offer 1:1 sessions for just that.

Whatever you choose, I’m so truly glad you’re here. ♡

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A gentle disclaimer:

The content I share here is not a substitute for therapy or medical care. I’m not a therapist. I’m sharing lived experience and supportive tools to help you reconnect with yourself.

Take what feels helpful, leave what doesn’t, and always listen to your own needs. For deeper support, please reach out to a qualified professional.