When I was a little girl, my mother always told me I had to love myself before I loved anyone else. I never really understood what she meant. Even during my sulky teen years, when I declared that I wanted to die, nobody understood me, blah blah blah, she would roll her eyes at me—and still tell me that I had to love myself. I’m really just now learning what the hell she was talking about. I do notice that when I'm a little nicer to myself, I'm a lot happier--and even more productive.
Both women and men are bombarded with reasons to hate themselves (and one another, of course) every day that really often don’t stem from ourselves at all. Relatives, well-meaning friends (and of course, friends in misery who love company), and especially the media are constantly telling us why we’re ugly, no good, and above all else, unworthy of being loved. Read more
