On self-worth, evolving relationships, and discovering what it means to truly show up for myself.

I’ve always believed that I loved myself.

I’ve invested in my education, traveled the world, pursued extraordinary opportunities, built businesses, enjoyed beautiful things, and created a life that, in many ways, reflects the woman I’ve always wanted to be.

Bonjour mes amies! I have never been afraid to take myself to a wonderful restaurant, purchase something beautiful, or create an experience simply because I wanted to enjoy it.

I’ve celebrated my accomplishments, taken care of my appearance, and encouraged other women to recognize their value.

So, if you had asked me whether I loved myself, I would have answered without hesitation.

Absolutely.

But lately, I’ve come to understand something that has challenged much of what I thought I knew about self-love.

I knew how to love myself through the things I did for myself. I was still learning how to love myself through the way I treated myself when life became complicated.

And goodness, what a difference that has made.

When Self-Love Stops Being a Feeling and Becomes a Decision

We talk about self-love as though it’s something we achieve and then carry with us forever.

We encourage women to take themselves on dates, buy themselves flowers, indulge in spa days, set goals, and celebrate their accomplishments.

And I believe in all of those things.

I have enjoyed them for years, and I have no intention of stopping.

But I’m discovering that the more challenging expressions of self-love don’t always feel particularly luxurious.

Sometimes self-love looks like giving yourself permission to rest without earning it.

Sometimes it’s admitting that you’re overwhelmed rather than insisting that you can handle everything.

Sometimes it’s choosing not to fill every available moment with another responsibility.

And sometimes it’s allowing yourself to change, even when the version of you that everyone knows has been perfectly capable of meeting their expectations.

This is where loving myself has begun to feel different.

I am no longer interested in simply knowing that I deserve kindness, consideration, and care.

I am becoming increasingly committed to extending those things to myself.

There is a considerable difference.

Learning to Extend Myself the Same Grace I Give Others

I have always been someone who sees possibilities.

In my professional life, I am often called upon to find solutions, develop strategies, guide people through complicated decisions, and help organizations recognize opportunities they might otherwise overlook.

Those instincts don’t simply disappear when the workday ends.

I enjoy helping people. I love celebrating their accomplishments, encouraging their ambitions, and being someone they can count on.

But lately, I’ve been considering how readily I offer patience and understanding to the people around me, and whether I have always been as generous with myself.

When someone I care about is exhausted, I encourage them to rest.

When they’re uncertain about their future, I remind them that not everything needs to be figured out immediately.

When they’re navigating something difficult, I don’t expect them to have every answer.

Yet I haven’t always given myself that same permission.

I’ve sometimes treated my ability to keep going as evidence that I should.

And there is a difference between being capable of carrying something and needing to carry it.

I’m learning to recognize that difference.

I’m learning that my needs don’t become less important simply because I’m resourceful.

That asking for support doesn’t diminish my independence.

And that I can be a loving, generous person without measuring my value by how much I am able to do for everyone else.

The Freedom to Be More Than the Strong One

There is an interesting expectation that develops around people who appear to have things together.

When you’re accomplished, independent, and accustomed to navigating complicated situations, people may naturally assume that you’re always fine.

And sometimes you are.

But strength is not the absence of vulnerability.

Nor should competence become a lifelong obligation to be everyone’s problem solver.

I’ve spent much of my life wearing many hats. Mother, entrepreneur, educator, strategist, friend, advisor, and occasionally the person everyone calls when something needs to be figured out.

I value those roles.

But I’m also a woman who sometimes needs encouragement, reassurance, quiet, or simply the opportunity to exist without being responsible for the next decision.

Loving myself differently means becoming more comfortable acknowledging that.

It means allowing people to show up for me, rather than assuming that I must always have everything under control.

It means being honest when my schedule is full, when I need time to myself, or when I would simply prefer an afternoon with a book and a cappuccino.

And I’ve discovered that these small changes can have a remarkable effect on our relationships.

When we stop presenting ourselves as endlessly available, we create an opportunity for more honest connections.

People get to know us beyond what we can accomplish for them.

They see our humanity.

And perhaps, if we’re fortunate, we begin to experience relationships in which care moves comfortably in both directions.

How Loving Myself Is Changing the Way I Connect

One of the most surprising things about this experience is that loving myself more intentionally hasn’t made me less interested in other people.

If anything, it’s made me more thoughtful about how I connect with them.

I’ve begun paying closer attention to the quality of my presence.

Am I saying yes because I genuinely want to participate, or because I’m accustomed to being available?

Am I listening with curiosity, or am I immediately trying to solve a problem that hasn’t been given to me to solve?

Am I making room for the people I love to be themselves, or am I bringing expectations into the relationship that neither of us has discussed?

These are questions that extend far beyond romantic relationships.

They matter in friendships, families, professional partnerships, and even the relationships we develop within our communities.

I’m discovering that meaningful connection requires more than generosity.

It requires honesty.

It requires recognizing that people have different capacities, priorities, and ways of expressing care.

It requires communicating what matters to us while remaining curious about what matters to someone else.

And sometimes it requires accepting that the way we participate in a relationship may need to evolve.

I don’t consider that a failure.

I consider it part of growing.

I’m discovering that loving myself more intentionally doesn’t mean loving other people less. It means no longer overlooking myself in the process.

Being Comfortable With Disappointing People

Here’s something I wish we discussed more often: even small acts of self-prioritization can feel surprisingly uncomfortable.

Especially when you’re accustomed to being dependable, accommodating, and willing to figure things out.

There can be an almost immediate impulse to explain why you can’t attend something, why you’re unavailable, or why you’ve decided to do things differently.

I’ve certainly experienced that.

But I’m learning that I don’t need an elaborate justification for every decision that supports my well-being.

Sometimes my schedule simply doesn’t allow for another commitment.

Sometimes I need an evening at home.

Sometimes I would rather take a walk, read a book, or enjoy time with my children than add another obligation to my calendar.

And sometimes, I simply have a preference.

Imagine that.

I can be thoughtful without being endlessly available.

I can be generous without overextending myself.

I can value someone’s invitation and still decline it.

And I can recognize that another person’s disappointment doesn’t automatically mean I’ve made the wrong choice.

The interesting thing about boundaries is that they aren’t necessarily about keeping people away.

Often, they’re about creating enough space to participate in our relationships wholeheartedly.

Because when I say yes, I want to mean yes.

Not yes accompanied by exhaustion, resentment, or a quiet wish that I’d made a different decision.

The Relationship I’m Rebuilding With Myself

Perhaps the most significant change has been in the way I speak to myself.

I’ve spent years encouraging others, advising clients, mentoring students, supporting loved ones, and helping people recognize possibilities they hadn’t considered.

I’ve been quite good at reminding other people of their capabilities.

But lately, I’ve wondered whether I have always extended that same patience and generosity inward.

When things haven’t worked out as planned, have I allowed myself the compassion I would offer someone else?

When I’ve been disappointed, have I acknowledged my feelings or immediately started looking for a solution?

When I’ve needed rest, have I permitted myself to take it without calculating what I might accomplish instead?

And when I’ve wanted something different for my life, have I allowed myself to pursue it without questioning whether I should be satisfied with what I’ve already achieved?

These questions have become particularly important as I navigate this new book of my life.

I am still ambitious.

I still want an extraordinary career, beautiful experiences, stimulating relationships, international travel, financial success, and all the wonderful things that make life interesting.

But I also want to enjoy the life I’m creating while I’m creating it.

I want to trust my judgment.

I want to celebrate progress without immediately moving the finish line.

And I want to extend to myself the same loyalty I have so readily offered others.

That last one has been particularly revealing.

Because sometimes we become so focused on showing up beautifully for everyone around us that we forget to ask how we’re showing up for ourselves.

I’m Still Learning What This Looks Like

I don’t want to suggest that I’ve mastered any of this.

I haven’t.

There are still moments when I overcommit, question my decisions, or find myself slipping into familiar habits.

There are days when I feel wonderfully confident about the direction I’m moving in and others when I’m still figuring things out.

But perhaps that’s to be expected.

When you’ve spent years responding to life in a particular way, changing those patterns takes more than a declaration.

It requires practice.

It requires paying attention to how we feel, recognizing when something needs to change, and being willing to make adjustments without judging ourselves for having needed them.

I’m also realizing that personal growth doesn’t have to arrive through some dramatic transformation.

Sometimes it’s subtle.

It’s noticing that I’m no longer rushing to fill every quiet moment.

It’s allowing myself to enjoy a wonderful afternoon without wondering whether I should be working.

It’s being more selective about commitments so I can be genuinely present for the ones that matter.

It’s accepting a thoughtful gesture without immediately considering how I should repay it.

And it’s becoming more comfortable allowing the people in my life to know me as I am today, rather than feeling obligated to remain exactly who I’ve always been.

Those are meaningful changes.

Even if they don’t make for particularly dramatic announcements.

Perhaps This Is What Loving Myself Really Means

I used to think self-love was primarily about recognizing my value.

Now, I’m beginning to think it’s equally about what happens after that recognition.

Do I honor what I know?

Do I make decisions that reflect it?

Do I give myself room to rest, change, grow, and occasionally get things wrong?

And am I willing to allow my relationships to evolve alongside me?

I don’t have all the answers.

But I know that something has shifted.

I’m becoming more intentional with my time.

More comfortable expressing my needs.

More open to receiving the same thoughtfulness I enjoy offering others.

And increasingly aware that being a loving person does not require me to be endlessly accommodating.

I still want to love generously.

I still want to be tender, affectionate, thoughtful, and open to all the beautiful possibilities that come with meaningful connection.

I’m not trying to become a harder woman.

I’m simply learning to include myself among the people I care for so deeply.

And perhaps that’s why loving myself feels so different this time.

I’m no longer measuring self-love only by how beautifully I treat myself when everything is going well. I’m learning to measure it by how faithfully I show up for myself in the ordinary, complicated, and imperfect moments of life.

For the first time, I’m beginning to understand that caring for myself and caring for others aren’t competing priorities.

They are both essential parts of a life lived beautifully.

And that, mes amies, is a relationship worth nurturing.

Ciao for now 💋