Yes, these were the thoughts that rumbled through my 13-year-old head. As I got older, they got worse. I tried to stuff them down with distractions like relationships and achieving #bodygoals, but they eventually came to a head during my thirties. It was around this time that I was aware of these thoughts and recognized the anxiety, dread, and obsessions for what they were: unending fear of missing out, fear of not being good enough, fear of not being loved.

My thoughts of trying to “be something” were getting to be too much. I thought about asking my doctor for anxiety medication, but also knew those came with side effects. So I pushed down the thoughts and kept on the same path, with slight modifications. I added daily reminders for myself: One day at a time. You got this. You are awesome. 

I didn’t believe I had any other options. I had been living that way for so long, I didn’t know how else to live. I didn’t know there was another way. Until that day at the end of 2020 when the world was already buzzing from the pandemic, my husband asked for a divorce. All those things that I used to tell myself came at me like a wrecking ball. I heard my husband telling me “You aren’t good enough for me.” But there was something different this time. I didn’t believe them. 

You would think that experiencing a husband’s betrayal and then divorce would have made those thoughts even more vibrant. But the opposite occurred. I told myself that they were not true, that I didn’t have to stay small or quiet or achieve some incredible feat of human existence to be noticed and worthy of love. I was already loved by so many.

I had been working on acts of self-care and self-love for a few years up to that point. These words were unheard of when I was growing up. I always thought love came from the outside, from others giving freely to you. Care came from my grandmas who spent the majority of their time looking after my siblings and me while our dad was at work. Care came from my aunts making us holiday meals and giving us lots of birthday and Christmas gifts. Love and care weren’t internal feelings or actions. I couldn’t give myself these things. That sounded crazy, not to mention selfish. At least that was what I always thought. But from the work I had been doing for several years by the time of the divorce, I was aware that self-care and self-love existed abundantly and that I could foster them myself. I knew that if I didn’t, I wouldn’t survive my heartbreak.

And so, divorced and emotionally shattered, I began my healing journey. It started with self-compassion. Instead of telling myself I wasn’t lovable, I told myself I was lovable and that someday I would find someone who loved me for who I was. Instead of telling myself I needed to stay quiet and small, I gave myself permission to begin writing my memoir and eat whatever I wanted without guilt. My body and mind grew bigger and braver. I shared my story with others. I shared my compassion with myself (the version who couldn't fathom what that would be like five years before). I changed the negative thinking into positive affirmations.

Most importantly, I learned that when we hold a part of ourselves back in our closest relationships, we also simultaneously do it to ourselves. This perpetuates the belief that we are broken or unworthy and can only be accepted if we portray an alternate version of ourselves to the world. I've learned that when it comes to confidence, it’s best to start with what you know as fact. Those loved ones who have shown they accept you in whatever phase of life you happened to be in. The transformation starts with us believing that we might not be rejected if we share our true selves.

All of us are inherently worthy of love, care, and kindness—just as we are, no modifications needed, no strings attached—even from ourselves. When we accept ourselves for who we are, then and only then can we thrive in our life.