Happy 2026, dear reader; today I'm stepping out of my
comfort zone and advocating for self-love.
Turn up this song {Be The One}
and let it play while you read my musings.
Self-love didn’t come to me as a bold billboard broadcast.
Instead, it tiptoed in quietly, almost unnoticed, like the distant sound of the marching band practicing in the wee hours of the morning, on this
t-shirt that my friend Trish sent my way from Wisconsin.
Then, I asked myself the Four Questions by Byron Katie.
The turnaround thought was powerful: I'll wear this at
my January growth sessions. In fact, I'll wear it with the
intention of recruitment and induction into the Club.
For a long time, I thought self-love meant having it all together. Strong faith. Clear purpose. A heart that didn’t second-guess every decision or replay every awkward moment at night, over and over again, keeping sleep at bay while I beat myself up. I also thought it had to do with entitlement, boasting, pridefulness even, and it all felt too self-centered and lacking humility.
But I’m learning that self-love isn’t really all that loud.
It doesn’t demand attention.
And it certainly isn't about bragging.
Most days, it simply asks me to stay.
To stay when I’d rather disconnect.
To stay when the mirror reflections get too curious.
To stay when my inner voice isn’t very kind.
There’s something sacred about learning to sit with yourself—
unbothered, unfiltered, unfinished, yet deeply loved.
I used to believe that being hard on myself was a form of discipline, that grace was something I could offer freely to others but needed to withhold from my own heart. After all, shouldn’t I know better by now? Shouldn’t I be further along? Is scorekeeping really an important skill?
But love—real love—doesn’t keep score.
Self-love has started to look like mercy and forgiveness. Forgiving myself for seasons when I survived instead of thrived. For choices that made sense at the time, even if they don’t now. For trying to be everything to everyone, even at the expense of my own mental health.
It’s choosing to speak gently to myself when I fall short. It’s releasing the pressure to earn rest, joy, or belonging. It’s remembering that growth is not a straight line, and neither is faith. Or grief.
Some days, self-love is as simple as telling the truth:
Today is hard, and that’s okay.
Other days, it’s celebrating small victories no one else sees,
like setting a healthy boundary or letting go of comparison.
And sometimes, self-love is trusting that I was created for a purpose. That I don’t need to hustle for worth or prove my place. That even in my messiest moments, I am still valued and valuable.
I’m learning that loving myself doesn’t make me selfish; it makes me whole. When I extend grace inward, I have more to offer outward. When I stop striving to be enough, I find peace in unwrapping the present.
So this year, I’m choosing to meet myself where I am,
instead of where I wish I were or where I think I'm going.
I’m prioritizing patience over perfection.
Truth over guilt or shame.
Faith over fear.
And if you’re feeling like you’re behind, broken or unsure, remember: you are allowed to grow slowly. You are allowed to rest. You are allowed to be a work in progress and still be profoundly and beautifully loved.
Need some mirror mantras to help teach this to your class family?
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I really enjoy hearing from my readers; thanks for sharing your reflections with us!