I used to think self-love was a scam, the kind of thing influencers sell you right before their 10% off discount code for a salt lamp. I wasn’t anti-self-love. I just didn’t get it. Sure, I’d take care of myself—I’d hit the gym, eat vegetables if they were fried in oil or tossed in some Jamaican curry. But building an actual relationship with myself? That felt… weird. Why would I woo myself when romance is so much more fun when someone else is involved? Turns out, you can’t really love someone else if you’re dodging your own reflection. Trust me, I tried.

What follows is not a blueprint; it’s a journey. My journey. One filled with small wins, real setbacks, and some laughable (in hindsight) detours. Somewhere along the way, I traded self-criticism for self-compassion, doubt for quiet confidence, and the dream of perfection for the truth of being enough.

Let’s unpack this.

The Mirror Was an Enemy Combatant

When I was six, my mom would hold me by the shoulders, look me in the eye, and tell me, “Marcus, yuh haffi walk proud and show di world what we worth!” A loving pep talk, yes, but it came at the expense of our weekly battle over ironing my church shirt. My mom hated wrinkles with the intensity of a thousand suns. But looking “presentable” wasn’t just about appearance; it was about respect—how the world saw us as Black immigrants in a country that wasn’t always kind. To this day, I can’t see an unpressed collar without a mini existential crisis.

By the time I hit my teen years, I wasn’t just worried about how the world saw me. I was hypercritical of how I saw me. My reflection was a walking list of “needs improvement.” Too skinny, too awkward, too shy—rinse and repeat. You know the drill. For years, I avoided mirrors, both literal and metaphorical. Who could love a guy who didn’t love himself?

The Wake-Up Call AKA Post-Breakup Blues

Fast-forward to my late twenties. I’d been dating someone for two years—a serious relationship by anyone’s standards. We break up, and suddenly, it’s just me and my thoughts. No partner to validate my jokes, assure me I was doing okay in life, or argue over the thermostat setting. This wasn’t a clean breakup where both parties wish each other the best and split a tub of ice cream. No, this was the kind where you lie in bed replaying every argument, only pausing to Google “can heartbreak cause actual chest pain?”

A week of sulking turned into two until a friend came over, stared at my pitiful self (I was wearing a shirt with nacho cheese stains, y’all), and said: “Marcus, your ex left the chat, but you’re still sitting here like a broken meme. Time to get up.”

He was right. The truth hit me hard: I hadn’t just neglected myself during the relationship. I’d outsourced my happiness entirely.

The “Talk to Yourself Like You’re Your Best Friend” Rule

You know how, when your best friend goes through a rough time, you hype them up? You remind them of their resilience, of all the times they’ve overcome? Well, what if you did that for yourself? Revolutionary idea, right?

Here’s how I started: every morning, I’d stand in the mirror and—don’t laugh—say something kind to myself. Sometimes it was just, “You made it out of bed; good job, fam.” Other days, I’d appreciate a specific feature I used to ignore. “Shoulders are looking strong today, Marcus,” I’d say. Or, “That smile’s got potential. Call Hollywood.”

At first, I felt goofy, like a man auditioning for an after-school special. Over time, though, the words started to stick. Slowly but surely, I stopped cringing at the man staring back at me. He wasn’t perfect, but he was alright—a work in progress worth investing in.

Falling in Love with the “No Filter” Version of Me

Growing up, I learned early that code-switching was a survival skill. In predominantly white classrooms, I was “polished.” In my D.C. neighborhood, I let go-go beats and patois flow freely. But somewhere along the way, I realized I didn’t wholly belong anywhere. I’d been living in compartments, presenting polished pieces of myself instead of the whole imperfect package.

Loving myself meant tearing down those walls. I stopped bending myself into shapes that fit the expectations of others. I started laughing a little louder, sharing my unfiltered opinions, and stopped apologizing for the quirks that made me “Marcus.” And you know what? The people who stuck around didn’t just love me more—they liked me more. Funny how that works.

Lessons I’ve Picked Up Along the Way

Self-love, at least for me, is not an automatic destination. It’s maintenance work. It’s a daily ritual, like making coffee or pretending to enjoy morning yoga off YouTube. Still, I’ve picked up some gems along this road:

  • Learn to rest. Seriously. My parents grew up hustling nonstop to make ends meet, and I’d inherited some of that hustle mentality. But rest isn’t laziness; it’s recovery. Schedule time for yourself to recharge. Take a nap if you need to. Look at Rihanna during her pregnancy reveal—she radiated self-love while redefining what “boss” looks like. Be like Rihanna.

  • Focus on what makes you feel alive, not just productive. It’s easy to measure our worth by output—job performance, likes on a photo, or how deeply you cleaned your apartment. But self-worth is rooted in tapping into what lights you up. For me, it’s creative writing, spicy jerk chicken, travel, and dancing like I’ve got rhythm (spoiler: I mostly don’t).

  • Surround yourself with people who reflect your light. I’m lucky to have family and friends who don’t shy away from tough love when I need it. These days, my rule is: if someone makes me feel drained or inadequate, they don’t get front-row seats in my life. Protect your energy like you protect your Netflix password.

  • Forgive yourself. For that awkward text you sent in 2009. For that fling that started with fireworks and ended with zero chemistry. For not hitting the gym enough or not speaking up when it mattered. Whatever it is, give yourself permission to move on. Forgiveness isn’t just for the people who did you wrong—it’s for the times when you were the one at fault.

The Big Finish

You’re probably not going to wake up tomorrow and love every single thing about yourself. And that’s okay. This isn’t about achieving peak self-love every day; it’s about finding simple pockets of grace. It’s laughing at your quirks, embracing your flaws, and knowing you’re still worthy of good things.

So, start small. Listen to that little voice inside that’s saying, “You’re enough.” Because the more you tune into it, the louder it gets—and eventually, you’ll believe it. And isn’t that what self-love is all about? Teaching yourself to say: “I’m worth it, even on bad days.”

Now, go hype yourself up in the mirror. You’ve got this.