People say self-love is the foundation of everything. That you can’t love anyone until you love yourself.
But when the first version of love you knew was cracked and conditional, you start to think maybe you were the problem. Maybe you were too loud. Too sensitive. Too needy. Maybe if you had done something differently, they would’ve stayed.
It’s taken me a long time to learn: I was never the problem.
We were just two people trying their best with tools we never had.
No time to secure the core values
then self-worth
and self-awareness
`Emotional regulation Healthy communication
Active listening Empathy Boundaries Conflict resolution
Adaptability Healing childhood/past wounds Forgiveness (self & others)
And a space to have individual growth any-everywhere
And still, I struggle with loving myself.
Because love was something I thought you had to earn.
Because for years, love meant walking on eggshells.
Because I saw too much, too early – and carried too much that was never mine.
So no, self-love doesn’t come easily.
It’s not a quote on a morning feed.
It’s not a bath bomb or journaling prompt.
It’s me sitting here, writing through tears, dry tears because I used to cry a lot, trying to make sense of it all.
It’s me choosing, one day at a time, to not abandon myself the way I felt abandoned.
It’s holding space for the anger, the grief, the confusion – and still saying: I’m worth loving. Even in this.
I know now that love isn’t supposed to hurt like that.
It’s not meant to be all-consuming, all-sacrificing.
You can’t be someone’s everything – and they can’t be yours.
We need friends, passions, joy that lives outside of another person.
Otherwise, when they’re gone, there’s nothing left.
And I don’t want that kind of love. Not anymore.
So no, I won’t let their divorce define how I see love.
Yes, I’m statistically more likely to divorce someday, but I refuse to turn pain into prophecy.
I’ve been loved deeply. I’ve loved well.
And that is enough proof for me – that love can be good. That it can be safe. That it can be home.
And even if I’m still rebuilding what “home” means, brick by brick,
I know I’ll get there.
Maybe this is what self-love looks like:
Not perfection. Not certainty.
Just the choice to keep going.
To keep soft. To keep open.
So here’s to the version of me that survived the fire.
Here’s to the version learning to dance in the ashes.
And here’s to all of us, still trying to believe –
That love is real.
That we are not too much.
That we are not too late.
That we are worth it.
Always.
P/S: I know it’s terrifying to see divorces happening around us – among friends, among people we know. But don’t let it scare you.
Love yourself first.
And may we all find a love that makes us believe in love again. <3
