How I Learned to Love Myself

The Mirror Didn’t Lie—But It Left Out Half the Story

I was eight years old the first time I looked in the mirror and felt like something was...off. My front teeth were awkwardly large in that “I’ll grow into them someday” way, and my haircut resembled a bowl my grandma probably used to serve mashed potatoes. I remember standing there, squinting, tugging at my shirt, and thinking, “Hmm. This could use some work.” Fast forward 20 years, and while the haircut had thankfully improved, the constant critiquing in the mirror hadn’t.

Even as an adult—college-educated, living on my own in a charming Boise apartment filled with cathedral light—I still had the habit of seeing only the flaws first. My brain would zoom in like one of those crime shows inspecting a grainy surveillance photo, focused on laugh lines, breakouts, or a little extra weight gained from my recent affair with fries dipped in milkshakes (if you know, you know).

But here’s the thing: The mirror leaves out everything that truly matters. It doesn’t show your laugh when you’re three drinks happy at a Northwest indie concert or the way your friends’ faces light up when you walk into a room. It doesn’t capture the moments you’re patient or kind, the quirky ways you approach life, or the deeply specific magic that only you bring to the world. Self-love, as I would come to learn, demands a shift in focus, away from the mirror’s endless war on pores and toward what truly makes you shine.

Step 1: Breaking Up With Perfectionism (And Other Toxic Relationships)

Here’s a hard truth to swallow: I treated self-love like it required a permission slip, one I was waiting for someone else to sign. In my head, I couldn’t possibly love myself until everything was perfect: the job, the weight, the partner, the résumé of cool hobbies that would make me the ideal brunch companion. Spoiler alert—perfection never came knocking.

So, I did what any rational, reasonably stubborn woman raised on potato farming grit would do: I ghosted perfectionism. Not full-on, though (it’s like that ex you occasionally text in moments of weakness); but I stopped acting like I needed to be magazine-worthy to be worthy, period.

To quote Lizzo—our queen of confidence herself—“I’m my own soulmate.” Instead of feeling like I needed 500 external factors lined up to be happy, I started building an internal list of things that already made me enough. It was simple stuff, at first: I’m loyal. I make a killer playlist. My mom says I'm funny. Over time, I realized I’d worn myself raw trying to fit into a mold I didn’t even like. Exiting that toxic relationship with “perfect” was the first step toward something infinitely healthier: being my own damn teammate.

Step 2: Curating a Self-Love Playlist

Before we move on, let me just say: the right soundtrack can change your entire attitude. Music sneaks past self-doubt like a Trojan horse—it helps you feel the things you want to feel, even if you’re not quite there yet. During my year in Chicago, when I could hear the wind howling and my self-esteem wobbling, I used music to drown out the noise.

I made a playlist purely for moments of insecurity called “Leslie the Legend” (yes, cringe—but weirdly effective). It had everything from Florence + The Machine’s “Dog Days Are Over” to the Killers’ “Smile Like You Mean It.” Each song was a reminder of exactly who I wanted to be: brave, funny, grounded in joy.

If you need a boost, here’s what I recommend adding to your list:
- A song that makes you want to dance around your living room with no pants on (you’re welcome, neighbors!).
- A throwback jam that reminds you who you were before the world told you to shrink yourself.
- A track that makes you think, “Who cares what anyone else thinks?” on repeat.

Seriously, playlists work. Call it musical therapy for building your swagger.

Step 3: Rewriting the Script

I didn’t realize how much of my mental dialogue sounded like Regina George from Mean Girls until I started paying attention. I mean, we all have that inner critic chirping away in the background, right? For me, it was less “You can’t sit with us!” and more “Wow, that awkward pause you left in the middle of your date proves you’ll die alone.” Professional-level shade from my own brain—thanks for nothing, Idaho public school system debate training.

But here’s the deal: self-love is as much about rewiring your thoughts as it is about spa nights or practicing yoga. If my mind was going to be chatty, why not have it say something worth hearing? I started writing comebacks to my own brain. Whenever I thought something like, “You’re such a mess,” I’d say, “Yeah, but I’m a work-in-progress mess—and those are the best kinds of messes.”

Eventually, I shifted totally. Where my inner dialogue used to be judgmental, it became gently curious: “Why am I feeling this way? What do I need now?” If you wouldn’t say it to your bestie, then don’t say it to yourself. Period.

Step 4: Finding Practical Joy

A big part of self-love is realizing that the real world doesn’t look like an Instagram highlight reel. It’s not foam-perfect lattes and tropical vacations 24/7—sometimes, it’s an overwatered pothos plant and a parking ticket. But here’s the tricky part: You can celebrate these everyday moments, too. In Boise, for example, that might look like hiking in the foothills on a crisp autumn day or sipping blackberry beer (shoutout to my parents’ brewery).

When I lived in Chicago, joy looked different. I found it in my morning ritual of eavesdropping on the L train, people-watching strangers attempt to solve life. These little moments added up, brick by brick, into something real and delightful I didn’t need approval from anyone to feel.

If you want to love yourself, focus less on grand gestures (though I wouldn’t say no to a gift card for a massage…) and lean into the micro-moments instead. Make yourself that Sunday pancake breakfast, even when nobody else is coming over. Buy flowers even if it’s “just for you.” Turn ordinary days into something you pause to savor.

Step 5: Owning Who You Are

Self-love, for me, wasn’t something I woke up with one day like a quirky before-and-after montage in a rom-com. It was slow, like waiting for spring buds on the trees downtown. But what bloomed, eventually, was this: I stopped pretending to be someone else.

My laughs are loud in a “skip the comedy club, I’m the show” kind of way. I always order the same sandwich at my favorite café (don’t @ me, turkey pesto is a masterpiece). I cry, not just during Marley & Me, but also during inspirational sports commercials. Once I stopped aiming for the version of me somebody else dreamed up, I found freedom in saying, “This is me—chaos and all.”

Your Turn

Maybe you're reading this while scrolling through your phone in bed, or maybe you’re on a lunch break eating carefully reheated leftovers that don’t quite taste right. Wherever you are, this is your reminder: You’re already enough.

Pick one thing—just one—from this journey that resonates, and run with it. Maybe it’s dancing around to a new anthem in your kitchen. Or finding joy in brewing yourself a really good cup of coffee. Or, I don’t know, just staring at yourself in the mirror tonight and saying, “Hey. I’m doing okay.”

Because here’s the truth: learning to love yourself isn’t about walking around glowing with zen. It’s in the tiny, ordinary rebellions against everything telling you you’re not good enough. Those rebellions, strung together, become a story—a story where loving yourself isn’t the happy ending...it’s the beginning.