Self-love is not a trend.
It is a return.
It is the quiet, radical decision
to stop abandoning yourself
to be understood.
Self-love is choosing your nervous system
over chaos disguised as passion.
It is resting without apology.
Leaving without explanation.
Saying no without rehearsing guilt.
It is the moment you realize
You do not need to be harder, louder, prettier,
or more palatable to be worthy.
You were never unfinished.
You were just taught to forget yourself.
Self-love is devotion.
A daily ritual of listening—
to your body when it whispers,
to your spirit when it insists,
to your heart when it says, This hurts.
It is feeding yourself the truth
instead of survival scraps.
It is boundaries that feel like breath,
not barricades.
Self-love does not chase.
It is attracted by alignment.
It does not beg.
It stands.
And sometimes,
self-love looks like grief—
mourning the versions of you
who stayed too long,
gave too much,
and called it love.
Honor her.
Then release her.
Because self-love is not isolation—
It is discernment.
It is choosing relationships
that meet you in wholeness,
not wounds.
Self-love is sacred rebellion.
A soft, unyielding vow:
I will not disappear for comfort.
I will not shrink from access.
I will not betray myself to be chosen.
I choose myself.
Again.
And again.
And again.
That is self-love.
And I no longer care about appeasing anyone—
not parents,
not family,
not friends,
and certainly not acquaintances
who confuse proximity with entitlement.
Love does not require self-erasure.
Respect does not demand obedience.
And access to me
is not a birthright.
Once I say done,
understand this:
I am not pausing.
I am not reconsidering.
I am not negotiating my peace.
I am leaving.
Do not wait for the softer version of me to return.
She is not resting.
She is released.
You will never get the same version of me again—
the one who overextended,
overexplained,
and swallowed herself
to keep the room comfortable.
That version was built for survival.
This one is built in truth.
I move differently now.
I speak with finality.
I choose myself without apology
and without an audience.
This is not cruelty.
This is clarity.
And clarity does not circle back.
Once it has chosen freedom–
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