I used to think self-love was one of those lofty, abstract concepts meant for people with infinity pools and perfectly curated Instagram feeds. You know the type: they always seem to be sipping green juice and doing yoga on a cliff somewhere. Meanwhile, there I was, deep in the messy trenches of everyday life, wondering why I got a headache from drinking enough water—wasn’t hydration supposed to make me feel more radiant, not overwhelmed? Learning to love myself felt like one of those “someday” goals, like learning French or finally finishing that knitting project I started five years ago.

Spoiler alert: “someday” didn’t roll around by itself. Self-love isn’t a lightning bolt moment; it’s more of a slow-blooming sunflower. But when it happens, it changes everything—how you see yourself, how you handle relationships, and, most importantly, how you show up in your own life.

This is the story of how I got there, step by step, misstep by messy misstep.

Step One: Stop Being Your Own Worst Critic

Let’s start with an uncomfortable truth: for years, I tore myself apart for sport. Every slip-up, every perceived flaw became fodder for my inner critic, who had the finesse of Simon Cowell and the sensitivity of a rock.

I used to hate looking at old photos of myself because my brain never shut up: “Why did you wear that? Who let you leave the house with bangs like that?” It wasn’t until I stumbled across a dusty photo of my 16-year-old self painting the sky outside my parents’ gallery—smudges of turquoise watercolor on my hands—that something shifted. I didn’t see the awkward teenager I had always criticized. I saw someone trying, someone curious and creative.

So I made a pact right then and there: I’d talk to myself like I’d talk to that girl. Not like a judge at an Olympic gymnastics meet. Not like Regina George handing me a backhanded compliment. Like a friend.

Practical Tip:

Next time you catch your inner critic revving up, stop and ask yourself, “Would I talk like this to my best friend?” If the answer’s no, shut it down. Your brain doesn’t get to be a Mean Girl anymore.

Step Two: Find Joy in Unexpected Places

They say “find what sparks joy,” but I think the trick is letting joy find you. For me, it showed up on an ordinary Tuesday when I decided to bypass Instagram envy and check out an art class for absolute beginners (because apparently, professional self-sabotage didn’t count as a hobby).

It was glorious chaos. A guy in the front row broke three pencils in frustration. I spilled pastel chalk on my shirt and turned my favorite jeans into a walking mural. By the end of the two-hour session, we were all laughing so hard at our collective lack of skill that I forgot about being perfect.

The truth is, self-love blooms in the freedom to be bad at something and enjoy it anyway. When’s the last time you gave yourself permission to do something purely for the fun of it, no strings or expectations attached?

Practical Tip:

Block out time this week to try something new with zero pressure. Plant succulents (and name them). Belt out some ABBA at karaoke. Burn a soufflé and call it “abstract cooking.” Let it be messy.

Step Three: Stop Waiting for Permission

If I had a dollar for every time I thought I wasn’t allowed to take up space, I’d be sipping margaritas on the beach in Cabo right now. From apologizing for my opinions to making myself smaller in relationships, I lived like I needed permission to exist.

One major turning point? A breakup that, in hindsight, was less of a heartbreak and more of a wake-up call. (Okay, it was a little heartbreaking, but so is realizing you’ve spent years bending your own boundaries to keep the peace.)

Afterward, I took myself out on what I called solo “unlearning” dates. I went to the movies alone. Ate enchiladas in the middle of a crowded restaurant without checking my phone once. Danced to a flamenco band in downtown Santa Fe like no one was watching—and even if they were, so what? Turns out, the only permission I needed was mine.

Practical Tip:

Take yourself on a solo date, no excuses. Go somewhere you’d usually wait for a friend, partner, or date to suggest. Reminder: Confidence isn’t about who’s paying attention to you. It’s about paying attention to yourself.

Step Four: Embrace the Art of Okay-ness

One of my favorite paintings is a piece we once featured at my family’s gallery. It wasn’t perfectly symmetrical, and the brushstrokes clashed in places—but that’s what made it unforgettable. I learned to see myself the same way: not despite my imperfect parts, but because of them.

Here’s the thing no Instagram affirmation will admit—self-love doesn’t mean waking up every morning chanting “I’m amazing!” in the mirror. It starts with flipping the script to something simpler: “I’m okay.” It’s meeting yourself where you are, whether that’s feeling fly in a new leather jacket or crying in the car because an old song came on the radio. None of it needs polishing up.

“Okay” might not sound groundbreaking, but man, it’s freeing. You stop aiming for an ideal version of yourself and accept exactly who you are today—flaws, quirks, and all.

Practical Tip:

Bring back some much-needed balance by asking yourself this: What would it look like to be okay with not changing a thing about myself right now? (Hint: It’s better than chasing “better.”)

The Big Lesson: You’re a Work in Progress—And That’s the Point

These days, I still have my moments. I scroll through social media and wonder if I should be doing yoga on cliffs or looking effortlessly windswept by a lavender field. My inner critic interrupts my grocery runs by reminding me I forgot eggs. But those moments don’t derail me anymore because I see them for what they are—blips on the radar.

Loving yourself doesn’t mean getting rid of those doubts entirely; it means showing up for yourself anyway. Like painting the sky with turquoise-streaked fingers or laughing at your terrible attempt at a contouring hack. It’s in the tiny acts of self-kindness that quietly add up.

I’m still learning to love myself, but now, I show up to the process with the same curiosity and open heart I bring to an unfinished canvas. After all, it’s not about nailing it on the first try. It’s about staying in the moment long enough to realize you already have everything you need—and the rest is just bonus texture.

Go ahead, give yourself permission to be the masterpiece and the mess. Trust me, life’s way more fun when you do.