Everyone Loves Me… Except Me

It’s strange, isn’t it?

People tell me I’m strong. Kind. Beautiful. They say they admire how I carry myself, how I show up for others, how I keep going even when life tries to break me. I smile and say thank you. I nod like I believe it. But deep down, I don’t see what they see.

Everyone seems to love me but I can’t figure out why.

Because when I’m alone, the voice in my head isn’t loving. It’s critical. It’s loud. It tells me I’m not enough, that I mess things up, that I’ll never be the version of myself they think I am. I compare myself to people who seem to have it all together, who walk through the world like they know they belong. And I wonder how do they do it? How do they lovethemselves?

I don’t hate who I am. But I struggle to embrace it. I struggle to feel worthy when I’m not performing, achieving, or being what others expect. Sometimes it feels like I’m wearing a mask everyone loves while the real me is hiding underneath, waiting for permission to just be.

And that’s the hardest part. Knowing I give so much love to others, but don’t offer the same grace to myself.

I’m trying, though. Little by little. To sit with the uncomfortable truth that love from others can’t fill the hole left by the love I withhold from myself. To believe that maybe just maybe I deserve the same compassion I give away so freely.

This isn’t a blog with a happy ending. It’s not a story about how I’ve healed completely or figured it all out.

It’s just me, being honest.

And maybe that’s the first step toward truly learning how to love myself.