How Greek Mythology (and a Good Olive Tree) Taught Me to Love Myself

A Tale of Gym Memberships and Unexpected Epiphanies

For years, I thought self-love was the kind of thing Instagram poets wrote about while lounging on oversized beanbags. It felt indulgent, foreign, and—for a proud Greek man raised on swirling debates and souvlaki—uncomfortably vulnerable. My self-image was fine, I thought. I didn’t have to stand in front of the mirror whispering affirmations à la RuPaul.

But then, like most great realizations, mine came at the expense of my dignity—and a failed New Year’s gym membership.

The year was 2018, just after the holidays. I, Dimitri, vowed to achieve Greek-statue-level fitness. I imagined myself as Zeus—powerful, radiant, muscular. Two weeks, a mild knee injury, and an embarrassing treadmill tumble later, I was nearly in tears over my lack of progress. Standing outside the gym in my overpriced workout gear and mid-blizzard, I thought, Why am I so hard on myself? Why do I measure my value by impossible standards?

That epiphany wasn’t the end of my journey, but it was the start. Let me tell you what came next and how I finally learned to love myself—with a little help from philosophy, food, and the occasional poorly-timed karaoke night.

Section 1: Stop Grappling With Perfectionism (Or, Why Apollo Would Be an Awful Dinner Date)

It’s funny how much we romanticize perfection. Social media doesn’t help, nor do Hollywood rom-coms where nobody’s ever caught double-texting or spilling tzatziki on their shirt. I was no different, an overachiever chasing an unattainable image of myself—call it the Apollo complex: flawless on the outside, but hopelessly rigid within.

But do you know who’s infinitely more interesting than Apollo? Dionysus—the god of wine, revelry, chaos, and joy. Imagine dating Apollo: everything planned, immaculate, boring. Now imagine a night with Dionysus. Things might get messy, your hair unkempt, your shoes muddy—but you’ll laugh from your belly and remember it forever.

I had to make peace with the fact that life—and my reflection in the mirror—was messy, inconsistent, and full of flaws. Actionable takeaway? Start appreciating your quirks rather than resenting them. Instead of agonizing over a stray wrinkle or a bad haircut day, ask yourself, What interesting story does this imperfection tell?

Section 2: One Bite of Baklava at a Time

When you grow up in a Greek restaurant family, you learn early that food isn’t just fuel—it’s joy, tradition, and connection. And somewhere along the way, it hit me: self-love is the same. You don’t scarf down a sizzling plate of moussaka all at once; you savor it, layer by layer.

Self-love is about small, consistent acts that remind you of your worth. For me, it started with something laughably simple: sitting by the sea after work, with a notebook and a strong Greek coffee. No phone, no distractions, just me and my thoughts.

Start your version of this practice. Make time for moments that feel indulgent to you—whether it’s doodling in a sketchpad, dancing in your pajamas, or lighting a candle while reading Mary Oliver. Life’s beauty, much like a perfect dolmadaki, exists in the small details.

Section 3: Think Like Plato (But With a Twist)

You might be wondering what ancient philosophy has to do with self-love, but hear me out. Plato (yes, the toga guy) had this brilliant idea called “eudaimonia,” which loosely translates to flourishing or living a fulfilled life. He didn’t define it by material wealth or perfect abs but by living authentically in alignment with your values.

One day, during a summer spent running a boutique hotel on Santorini, I felt particularly exhausted—like I was losing myself to guests’ demands and endless spreadsheets. So I sat down with an ouzo (as one does) and wrote out a list of values that mattered to me: creativity, connection, and spontaneity. And then, I asked myself, Am I living in alignment with these? Spoiler: I wasn’t.

So here’s a tip: Make your own list of core values. Then check your choices—relationships, habits, even how you spend your Saturdays. Does it all reflect your truest self? Adjust where it doesn’t. You’ll be surprised by how much lighter, freer, and more “you” you’ll feel.

Section 4: Dance Even If You Don’t Know the Steps

Somewhere on a dimly lit rooftop in Crete, I once joined an impromptu dance circle where I absolutely butchered the moves. It was terrible—gloriously so. My two left feet were a running joke for weeks. But something extraordinary happened: As I stumbled, I felt utterly, profoundly alive.

That night, I realized not everything about self-love makes sense. Sometimes, it’s about saying yes without an agenda, embracing your awkwardness, and letting joy sneak in through unexpected cracks.

You’ll have your version of the dance circle—something you’re initially terrible at but, over time, lights a tiny, stubborn flame in you. For a friend of mine, it was pottery. For another, boxing. Whatever it is, go do it—even if you feel silly or out of place at first. Because no matter how clumsy, trying something new reminds you of your capacity to grow.

Section 5: Leave Room for Joy

If there’s one thing Greek culture teaches you, it’s this: Life is too short to not smash a couple of plates every once in a while. (Metaphorically, of course, unless you’re attending an actual Greek wedding.)

Loving yourself isn’t about having an unbroken streak of perfectly productive days. It’s about sprinkling joy across your routine—whether that’s through humor, indulgence, or gratitude. Here are some easy ways to start:

  • Laugh at Yourself: That one time I accidentally sent a text meant for my crush to my aunt? Mortifying in the moment, but a story for the ages now.
  • Celebrate the Small Wins: Cooked yourself breakfast instead of ordering? You’re a hero.
  • Let Go of the “When I” Mentality: Stop waiting for the perfect moment to feel good about yourself. You can love yourself now—even if your laundry’s in a pile and your inbox is a disaster.

Section 6: The Olive Tree Principle

There’s an olive tree outside my childhood home in Athens. It has stood there for decades—weather-beaten, a little lopsided, but deeply rooted. Somewhere along my self-love journey, I started thinking of myself like that tree. Sure, I’ve faced storms, and I’m far from symmetrical (seriously, my left eyebrow has a whole independent personality), but I’m still standing.

You are an olive tree too—resilient, imperfect, and worthy of admiration. And like any good tree, all you need is the occasional pruning, some sunlight, and time to grow tall.

My Final Takeaway

The journey to self-love isn’t an overnight transformation. It’s messy, nonlinear, and peppered with bad haircuts and awkward moments. But if I—a treadmill-tripping, Dionysus-aspiring, karaoke enthusiast—can do it, so can you.

Remember: Loving yourself doesn’t mean ignoring your flaws. It means looking at every scar, laugh line, and failed attempt with compassion and humor. Life’s too short to spend it staring at the mirror, wishing for perfection. So go, live, dance poorly, and remember that love—starting with yourself—is the most important thing worth cultivating.

As they say in Greece: Yamas! (Cheers to that.)