How I Learned to Love Myself

If self-love were like making the perfect pancake, I spent years flipping mine too soon, burning the edges, and somehow always forgetting the baking powder. Sure, the batter was there—ingredients like ambition, humor, and my deep, unyielding devotion to iced coffee—but something about it just didn’t rise. Spoiler alert: it wasn’t because I needed a better recipe. I needed to stop focusing on what everyone else wanted and start embracing who I actually was.

This is the story of how I stopped trying to win others over and learned to be my own loudest cheerleader—a journey that wasn’t linear, but then again, neither is my eyeliner most days. And that’s okay.

The Boardwalk Trap

Growing up along the Grand Strand, I used to watch boardwalk performers on summer evenings. Guitar players would strum their hearts out while teenagers in ironic T-shirts tossed coins into their hats. Couples ate fried dough like it was a love language. It looked idyllic.

But here’s the secret about the boardwalk: it’s a lot of pressure. Be bright, be beautiful, be entertaining—it’s the unspoken mantra of anyone walking under the flickering neon lights. That pressure creeps into you, settles in your bones. It whispers: “If I’m not dazzling, will anyone stay?”

For years, I lived my life like a boardwalk performer, constantly “on.” Whether it was friendships, dating, or even social media, I thought my value lay in how well I entertained, impressed, or pleased other people. I’d wear the brightest metaphorical costumes, even when they didn’t feel like me, just to make sure I wasn’t fading into the background. Spoiler: It’s exhausting to sparkle 24/7.

The “What’s Wrong With Me?” Phase

I’ll admit, my self-love journey wasn’t triggered by an uplifting montage starring me running through tall grass to Florence + The Machine. Nope. It came after a truly terrible breakup. You know the kind—the kind that leaves you Googling “can heartbreak cause actual cardiac arrest” at 1 a.m.

I remember one friend, bless her, telling me, “You just have to love yourself first!” A concept that seemed charmingly simple, like making a sourdough starter without instructions. But loving myself felt impossible after that breakup. I picked apart every detail of the relationship, replaying moments like a streaming service stuck on a loop. Was the problem that I was too moody? Not ambitious enough? Maybe he just hated the pineapple-print dress I wore to dinner that one time?

If you’ve been here, dissecting your shortcomings post-romantic collapse, let me lovingly tell you this: Stop auditioning for someone who has already left the theater.

When You’re Forced to Sit With Yourself

It wasn’t until I spent a summer mostly alone—my best friends were out of town, and my parents were busy revamping their café—that I was forced to actually hang out with myself. You know, take myself on dates (highly recommend), sit on the beach for hours with nothing but a novel, and—terrifyingly—ask questions like, “Okay, but who am I when no one’s watching?”

That summer, I journaled relentlessly, mostly in a cheap notebook with mermaids on the cover from the gas station near my apartment. Seriously, if those pages ever saw daylight, I’d be mortified. But that messy, uncensored writing helped me tease apart which parts of me I genuinely loved (my dorky obsession with mystery novels, my ability to read the room like a psychic) from the personas I’d been wearing because I thought they’d make me more “dateable.”

A Reminder From Oprah (Yes, Really)

Somewhere in that summer of solitude, I stumbled across an Oprah quote—“You are enough just as you are.” It struck me so hard I wrote it in Sharpie on the cover of the mermaid notebook. Here’s the thing, though: convincing yourself you’re enough doesn’t happen overnight. It’s a bit like convincing your friends that roller-skating is a good idea—it takes some effort and a few mishaps before everyone gets on board.

In my case, it took unlearning the lie that my worth comes from external validation. It took un-friending people who felt more like critics than confidants. It even took me saying “no” to someone I liked when their actions didn’t align with their words (a proud moment that I celebrated by buying myself fancy sushi). Slowly but surely, I felt lighter. Truthfully, almost as if I’d been holding my breath for years and was finally exhaling.

Practicing Self-Love Lite (Because It’s a Skill)

Here’s the wild thing about loving yourself: it’s not one grand “ta-da!” moment. It’s a collection of small, quiet decisions you make every day. Little rebellions, like making the playlist you want to listen to instead of defaulting to your friend’s pop preferences. Or declining a third hinge date with someone who texts exclusively in emojis.

Here are a few small changes that made a big impact on my self-love journey:

  • Stop apologizing for your hobbies. I used to downplay how much I love re-reading Southern gothic novels (the drama, the haunted vibes, I live for it). Now? I let my book-loving freak flag fly.
  • Learn the art of a solo dinner. Taking yourself out to eat isn’t sad or weird. It’s glorious. You don’t have to share appetizers, and you can finish the meal with a solid “thanks, me!” nod.
  • Ditch the comparison game. Being from a tourist town, it’s easy to get stuck in an “Instagram envy” loop. Who cares if someone else’s reel has perfect golden-hour lighting? The best pictures are the ones where you’re actually enjoying the moment.
  • Talk to yourself like you would a friend. Seriously, would you call your best friend “too sensitive” or “kind of a hot mess”? Didn’t think so.

Each day that I chose to let myself be unapologetically me felt like taking one step away from the boardwalk performance and one step closer to the ocean, where I was free to just be.

The Mirror and the Magic Trick

One unassuming morning while brushing my teeth, I caught my reflection in the bathroom mirror. Normally, I’d glance, shrug, and move on. But this time, I lingered, toothbrush in hand, and actually smiled at myself. Not a “fake it ‘til you make it” grin, but a genuine “Hey, you’re kinda cute and pretty cool” smile. It was such a tiny moment, but it felt monumental—like seeing a baby sea turtle hatch and shuffle toward its first wave.

What I’ve realized is that self-love doesn’t mean you’re flawless, endlessly confident, or immune to insecurities. It means you see yourself clearly, flaws and all, and choose kindness over criticism. It’s written in the ways you show up for yourself—whether that’s creating boundaries or embracing your quirks—or finally channeling your spices in the kitchen like you’re auditioning for “Top Chef: Home Edition.”

Loving You, Too

So, whether you’re fresh out of a breakup, caught in the comparison trap, or just wondering if you’ll ever feel at home in your own skin, trust me when I say: it’s worth the journey. Messy summers with mermaid notebooks and all. Remember: You can leave the boardwalk anytime. The ocean’s been waiting.

Go find it. The view’s incredible.