February rolls around with its explosion of hearts and flowers, all wrapped up in endless messages about self-love. But for me, the concept of loving myself, let alone loving my body, has often felt entirely out of reach. I’ve spent much of my life trying to survive in a society that measures worthiness in ways that exclude, diminish, and harm people like me. When the world tells you that your body is wrong, that your existence is too much or not enough, the call to "just love yourself" can feel not only impossible but cruelly dismissive.
The overused phrase “You can’t love someone else until you love yourself” might just be the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard. Let’s dismantle this nonsense for a moment. Human connection is not dependent on a self-love checklist. We don’t arrive at worthiness by perfecting ourselves, and love is not withheld until we meet some internal standard. For me, love has never emerged from demanding more of myself but from practicing compassion, from extending the kindness I offer others toward myself in small, deliberate ways. I’m not sure I’ll ever feel love toward myself in the way the self-help books describe, but self-compassion? That’s been my lifeline.
Self-compassion allows me to see myself as a work in progress rather than something broken. It reminds me that striving for perfection, whether in body, mind, or life, nearly killed me. It’s a quiet, persistent voice that says, "You are enough as you are." And on the days when I can’t believe that, it says, "Even your doubt is worthy of compassion." For me, this approach feels gentler, more honest, and far less tied to the endless demands of a world that tells us we must always strive for more.
I’m also drawn to the framework of body neutrality. It offers an escape from the pressure to move from self-loathing to unbridled positivity. Instead, body neutrality invites me to see my body as it is—a vessel, a companion, a being deserving of care. It shifts the focus from appearance or societal value to honoring the body’s experiences and inherent worth. My body carries me through grief, joy, pain, and healing. It’s flawed, human, and mine. That’s enough.
And let’s be honest. Demanding positivity in the face of a society steeped in racism, sexism, homophobia, transphobia, ableism, anti-fat bias, patriarchy, and sanism is asking a lot of anyone. It’s not an act of weakness or failure to admit that existing in this world can be overwhelming. For many of us, survival is an act of resistance. So is choosing compassion over cruelty, neutrality over shame, and rest over endless striving.
If February’s messaging of love feels alienating, know that you’re not alone. You don’t have to love yourself every day to be worthy of care, connection, and love. You don’t have to conquer self-doubt to show up for yourself. Maybe self-love will find you one day, in its own way. Or maybe it won’t. Either way, self-compassion can be your companion. It’s quieter than self-love, less showy, but so much more steady and lasting. It meets you where you are and reminds you that even in the messiness, the doubt, and the struggle, you are already enough.