How I Learned to Love Myself

It started with my mother’s mirror.

An ornate, brass antique my father gifted her after a trip to the Khan el-Khalili market in Cairo. It sat on her vanity like a relic of another time, everything about it so utterly beautiful—until it wasn’t. At thirteen, I stood in front of it, dissecting every perceived flaw. My nose felt a millimeter too wide. My curls, unruly. The faintest hint of a blemish suddenly became catastrophic. That mirror reflected not who I was, but everything I thought I wasn’t.

Years later, after hopping continents, chasing degrees, and navigating a few heartbreaks that felt poetic enough to belong in a sad French film, I realized a painful truth: I had been stonewalling the most important relationship of my life—the one with myself. Here’s how I learned to flip the script, one (sometimes clumsy) step at a time.

The Wake-Up Call: No One’s Coming to Save You

Here’s a humbling moment for you: a late night in Paris after a breakup, listening to Edith Piaf croon “Non, je ne regrette rien” as you ugly-cry into crumpled tissues. My then-boyfriend (now firmly in my “thank u, next” hall of fame) had delivered the classic, “It’s not you, it’s me,” line. Spoiler alert: it was him, but unpacking why I was so shaken led me to a major epiphany.

I had spent years unknowingly waiting for external validation to fill an internal void. Compliments, relationships, accomplishments—none of them ever felt enough because, deep down, I hadn’t given myself permission to be enough for me.

Harsh truths, right? But here’s the good news: realizing this means you can decide to stop waiting to be “rescued.” Beyoncé wasn’t kidding when she sang, "Me, myself, and I / That's all I got in the end." Seriously, put it in bold-faced type on your mirror. Self-love? It’s the plot twist you write for yourself.

Step One: The Art of Rewriting the Narrative

They say hindsight is 20/20. If so, my twenties were basically a foggy Parisian winter. I let insecurities anchored in cultural expectations shape my story. Growing up in Alexandria and Paris was like dressing for two different seasons—Egyptian sensibility versus French laissez-faire individualism. One preached modesty and collectivism; the other, self-expression and independence. Trying to meet both standards left me feeling forever "in between."

But here’s a trick: stop asking, “What’s wrong with me?” and start asking, “What’s mine to own?”

I had to become the editor of my life instead of letting old narratives dictate my worth. Years of people casually commenting, "You’d be prettier if you straightened your hair" or "Why aren’t you married yet?" became less powerful when I decided to rewrite their assumptions as irrelevant side notes.

Are there parts of your story you’re letting someone else write? Maybe it’s time to grab the pen.

Step Two: Prioritize Joyful Rituals

One of the most practical ways I started showing myself love? Tiny rituals that made me feel grounded and whole. These weren’t grand rebrand moments—no “Eat Pray Love”-style Italian feasts or dramatic haircuts (although let’s not knock a post-breakup fringe). They were small acts that showed myself: Hey, I care about you.

Here’s what that looked like for me: - Fika Fridays: Inspired by Sweden’s coffee-and-cake culture, I started carving out time to sit in a café (alone!) with a cappuccino and a book. There’s something wildly empowering about taking yourself on a date. - Mirror Pep Talks: I still remember resisting these at first, thinking, “Seriously, Zahra? Talking to yourself?” But standing in front of a mirror, telling myself even the smallest affirmations—“You’re enough” or “You’ve got this”—felt like rewiring decades of self-critique. - Cultural Nostalgia: On tough days, I’d blast Umm Kulthum’s velvety voice and let her sing what I couldn’t put into words. Find what connects you to you.

Self-love doesn’t need to look like spa weekends or Pinterest-worthy routines. It’s about whatever makes you feel seen—even if just by yourself.

Step Three: Embrace the Messy Parts

Let’s break this myth: self-love isn’t about being perfect—it’s about not demanding perfection from yourself. Nobody tells you that loving yourself doesn’t mean avoiding cringe-worthy, awkward moments. I’ve said ridiculous things on dates, tripped on cobblestones in heels I had no business wearing, and once ruined a pot of moussaka while trying to “reinvent” my mother’s recipe. None of this negates my worth.

One relatable dating disaster? Trying to be “cooler” than I am: feigning excitement (and nausea) while on a date at a rooftop sushi spot, pretending I liked oysters even though they tasted like briny regret. Why did I do it? Because I thought not liking oysters somehow meant something was wrong with me. Spoiler: it didn't.

Loving yourself means allowing the imperfect, vulnerable, and yes, sometimes uncool parts of you to sit comfortably at the table. Cue Lizzo dancing in her kitchen, unapologetically living her best life—be your internal Lizzo.

Step Four: Compare Less, Celebrate More

You can't pour love into yourself if you're too busy measuring your glass against everyone else's. Social media, with its curated confidence, can make even the most grounded of us spiral. That newly engaged classmate? The friend who seems to possess the magical ability to look like they belong in Vogue 24/7? Their wins aren’t your losses.

Here’s what shifted my mindset: realizing that we’re not competing. Picture this: You’re the lead character in your movie. Everyone else? Side characters or guest stars. Their storylines don’t detract from yours—your story is yours.

Start celebrating your small wins, however mundane they might seem. Cooked something new without burning it? Clap for yourself. Woke up on time instead of snoozing your alarm for the tenth time? Celebrate! These moments matter when you’re building a foundation of self-respect.

Step Five: Commit to the Lifelong Romance

Perhaps the most important lesson I’ve learned? Self-love isn’t an event—it’s a lifelong relationship. You won’t wake up one day suddenly cured of self-doubt. It’s ongoing, sometimes infuriating, but so worth it.

I like to think of loving myself as a romantic journey. Some days, I’m swept off my feet by my own brilliance (queue an imaginary rom-com montage). Other days, self-love feels like struggling through a boring Tuesday with a partner who leaves socks on the bathroom floor. But I stay committed.

A Love Letter to Yourself

Here’s the takeaway: You don’t have to wait for “someday” to love yourself. Start with today—however messy or imperfect. Imagine your own version of that brass antique mirror. If you stand in front of it long enough, and with enough kindness, you might notice what was there all along: someone entirely worthy of their own love. Embrace them.

And if you ever forget where to begin? Turn on “Non, je ne regrette rien,” cry, laugh, dance a little—or a lot. You’ve got this.