this might not make you love yourself

I was sixteen when I realised I truly hated myself. Arguably, quite a young age to be having such strong feelings about yourself, but I know it began way before that. I thought I was the most annoying person on Earth. I didn’t get why I couldn’t just do life right and just be right.

Most of what I hated about myself I learnt through other people. The way they looked down at me, scoffed at me, muttered the words stupid, lazy, liar and so much more.

Working with clients now, I often explain this phenomenon of hating yourself as almost just... knowing. I say it's like knowing my name is Meredith. It's simply a fact. I don't feel anything when I say my name because it just is. Chronic self-hatred works the same way. It becomes your blueprint. As unquestionable as knowing your own name. You don't necessarily feel distressed by it anymore because, to you, it's no longer an opinion—it's just who you are.

If enough people tell you you're difficult, you begin to believe you are. If you're constantly made to feel like a burden, eventually you stop apologising for existing and simply assume you are one. You don't wake up one morning and decide to hate yourself, it develops.

The cruel thing about chronic self-hatred is that it convinces you that you've reached these conclusions on your own, when in reality, somebody handed them to you first.

No one is born believing they're unworthy. Children don't arrive in the world convinced they're stupid or unlovable; those beliefs are learnt, which means they can also be questioned.

This is why I struggle with the advice to love yourself. It’s too watered down and oversimplified because a lot of people cannot simply arrive at self-love. Telling someone to love themselves when they've spent years collecting evidence against themselves is like asking them to believe the sky is green. It's not that they don't want to, it's that every part of them has been taught otherwise.

That’s why we can’t skip steps. We can’t jump straight to self-love without first starting with self-respect. I don’t mean the watered-down version of self-respect that patriarchy has created. I’m not here to tell you what’s considered appropriate clothing, the ideal number of people to have sex with, or how a “respectable” woman should behave.

The true definition of self-respect is ‘a proper regard for yourself as a valuable human being’. It is recognising that you inherently deserve to be treated with dignity, making decisions and conducting yourself in a way that aligns with your personal morals and having the courage to communicate your limits and not settling for less than you deserve.

The beautiful thing about self-respect is that it doesn't ask you to change how you feel about yourself overnight. It asks you to act as though your wellbeing matters, even on the days you don't believe it does.

It might be that you still do not think you are good enough, and maybe you still see yourself as difficult, annoying, or too much. Self-respect isn’t, however, waiting for those thoughts to disappear before you take care of yourself. It’s choosing not to let them make your decisions.

It's going to bed because your body deserves sleep; it's eating because your body deserves nourishment; it's leaving relationships that make you feel small. Self-respect is saying I can take up space too.

You don't have to believe you're worthy before you start treating yourself like you are. Sometimes the actions come first, and your mind catches up later.

You may not love yourself, but you must respect yourself.

Self-respect begins when we stop speaking to ourselves as though we are the exception to human kindness.

Most of us would never dream of speaking to another person the way we speak to ourselves. If a friend made a mistake, we’d remind them they’re only human. If they were exhausted, we’d tell them to rest. If they were grieving, struggling or overwhelmed, we’d offer them patience rather than punishment. Yet somehow, when it comes to ourselves, the rules change.

We expect perfection. We convince ourselves that our mistakes are evidence of our worthlessness, we deny ourselves the compassion we so freely give to everyone else, we become the one person we believe doesn’t deserve understanding.

But why? What makes you the exception?

Why does everyone else deserve grace while you deserve criticism? Why does everyone else get to be human, but you have to be perfect?

Self-respect begins when we stop believing that we are somehow exempt from the kindness we offer so freely to other people. It begins when we recognise that if dignity belongs to every human being, then it belongs to us too.

Self-respect isn’t reserved for people who have healed or finally figured themselves out. It is a decision you make, over and over again. Some days you’ll still hear that familiar voice telling you you’re not enough. You’ll still catch yourself replaying conversations, picking apart your reflection or convincing yourself you’ve failed.

Self-respect doesn’t ask you to pretend those thoughts don’t exist; it asks you to choose yourself anyway.

The more you make decisions from a place of self-respect, rather than forcing yourself to feel self-love or acting from a place of self-hatred, the more you begin to trust yourself. You trust yourself to make decisions that are in your best interests; you trust yourself to leave what hurts you; you trust yourself to honour your boundaries instead of constantly crossing them to make other people comfortable.

Every act of self-respect is evidence, evidence that you are someone who can be relied on, not by everyone else, but by yourself.