The Day I Almost Broke Up… with Myself

There’s a certain kind of heartbreak that doesn’t come from an ex ghosting you or from losing your favorite pair of sunglasses (you know, the ones that made you feel like you could conquer the world). No, this heartbreak is sneakier. It’s the kind you deal with when your own self-image takes a hit. A moment where you’re standing in front of the metaphorical mirror, and the reflection looking back at you isn’t someone you recognize—or someone you like.

For me, that moment came wrapped in an innocuous package: a bad first date and a big slice of humble pie. But let’s back it up—I promise this gets good.

Small Talk, Big Ego

It started like any other first date: half-adorable, half-awkward text exchanges that eventually led to a “We should totally meet up!” We agreed to grab coffee—classic, low-pressure, all vibes—but within 15 minutes of sitting down, I thought I might die. And no, not from the latte art being too perfect. It was because I was totally bombing the date.

Imagine being on a stage, performing a one-person show where the audience isn’t laughing at your jokes, isn’t nodding along, and is definitely questioning why they purchased a ticket. There I was, making what I thought were witty comments about my favorite books, tossing out charming anecdotes about my travels, and… nothing. Nada. Crickets louder than the ones in that TikTok trend about awkward silences.

The date ended without fireworks (or even a sparkler), and as I walked to my car, I spent the whole drive home dissecting the 90 minutes of silence so intense it felt personal. Was it my outfit? Did I talk too much? Should I have admitted that I don’t like sushi even though half of the human population can’t stop raving about it? Somewhere on that drive home, I realized this wasn’t about them. This was about me.

Meet the Villain: My Inner Critic

I’d like to formally introduce you to the meanest person in my life—my inner critic. Her voice? Razor-sharp. Her insults? Devastating. (“Of course they didn’t like you. You wouldn’t even date yourself!” she jeered.) My inner critic made Regina George sound like a motivational TED Talk speaker.

This wasn’t my first run-in with her, either. Over the years, she seemed to rear her ugly head during curveball moments in my life. But this time, she hit below the belt. She poked at an insecurity I didn’t even know I had—a nagging fear that maybe I wasn’t enough. Not clever enough, not attractive enough, and certainly not interesting enough to hold someone’s attention.

It’s funny how a bad date can snowball into an existential crisis, but there I was, wondering if I’d been faking the “cool, confident, collected” persona for so long that I’d forgotten how to be real. Was this really who I was? And if so, did I even like myself?

The Survival Plan: From Pep Talk to Perspective Shift

When I tell you I didn’t think I’d survive this spiral, I mean it. Not in the literal sense (I wasn’t that dramatic), but in a “how do I rebuild myself when I’ve completely unraveled?” sense. Here’s what eventually turned the tide for me—and how I came back stronger than ever.

1. The "Main Character" Check

Ever have a friend so wrapped up in their own drama that they miss the big picture? Newsflash: I was that friend… to myself. I’d let one interaction derail my entire sense of self-worth, as though my value depended on whether someone else found me captivating. Spoiler alert: It didn’t. My worth wasn’t decided by a stranger sipping coffee on a Tuesday afternoon.

Taking a step back, I reminded myself that I am—and will always be—the main character of my story. And sometimes, main characters have off days. Even Beyoncé probably flubbed a note before becoming Queen Bey. The point is, a bad moment doesn’t define the whole narrative.

2. A “Love Me” Inventory

I grabbed a journal and made a list—not of things I wanted to change, but of things I already loved about myself. My curiosity? On there. My ability to make a killer homemade hot cocoa? Absolutely. The weird dorky things, like how I know every lyric to Shakira's greatest hits? Yes, even those things made the cut.

Here’s what I learned: When you’re feeling fragile, reconnection starts by focusing on what’s already right. Shouting those little affirmations down my inner critic’s throat eventually helped her take a seat (for once).

3. Finding My Inner Ryan Reynolds

In tough moments, I try to channel the energy of celebrities who don’t take themselves too seriously—Ryan Reynolds, Mindy Kaling, Nick Offerman. A sense of humor really does click “refresh” on your outlook. I joked to one of my best friends that “if being rejected on dates were an Olympic sport, I’d probably medal.” That simple reframing—turning a cringey moment into a comedic one—helped me breathe again. Pro tip: Self-deprecating humor is only fun if it’s kind (and trust me, “generous shade” is a skill worth mastering).

Lessons in Loving You, Flaws and All

It would’ve been easy to blame the bad date on the person sitting across from me, but deep down, I knew the real challenge wasn’t navigating that conversation—it was confronting the moment after. How do we rebuild from rejection—not just from others, but from ourselves?

Here’s the truth I wish I could text to everyone who’s cried over their reflection, both literal and metaphorical: It’s okay to feel not enough sometimes. That feeling? It’s part of being human. But you can’t let it live rent-free in your head forever. Eviction day will come.

  • Love yourself in pieces before expecting to feel whole. It’s okay to pick those pieces up one at a time.
  • Treat yourself the way you’d treat a best friend. Would you tell your BFF that they’re terrible for being a little awkward? Didn’t think so.
  • Give yourself the grace to grow. Bad days don’t mean bad people, and awkward silences don’t make you unworthy.

I survived that tough moment—the one where I almost gave up on myself—because I started talking to myself like someone worth rooting for. Somewhere between the tears, the journaling, and the hot cocoa breaks, I forgave myself for not being perfect. And can I tell you a little secret? That was the moment I realized: not being perfect is kind of the point.

As for my inner critic? She’s still there, of course. But now, when she gets started, I tell her to shush—I have main character things to do.