Lately, the theme of love has been following me like a stubborn shadow—showing up in card pulls, meditation circles, quiet moments.
But not the love that’s wrapped up in romance or validation.
Not the kind that’s given conditionally or chased like a prize.

Radical self-love.
The kind that’s messy. The kind that feels foreign. The kind that feels almost impossible when you’ve spent a lifetime quietly hating yourself.

I’ll be honest.
For most of my life, I couldn’t look in the mirror without a flood of disgust or sadness.

When I did catch my reflection, I didn’t just see my face—I saw everything I believed was wrong with me.
Every failure. Every mistake. Every part of me that didn’t measure up.

The mirror became a battlefield.
I avoided it whenever I could.
I kept lights low, skipped glancing at windows. I kept my head down because I couldn’t stand my own gaze.

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The Breaking Point

No one talks about how heavy it gets, carrying that hatred inside you.
How even when people love you, you can’t feel it—because you don’t love yourself.
How it leaks into everything: your health, your relationships, your dreams.

I reached a point where I realized:
If I didn’t find a way to stop being my own enemy, I wasn’t going to survive myself.

So, I started small.
One mirror.
One hand over my heart.
One whisper:

“I love you.”

It didn’t feel magical. It didn’t fix me.
It felt stupid, painful, hollow.

But I did it again the next day.
And the next.
And the next.

And something tiny began to shift.
Not a transformation.
A crack of light.

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Mirror Meditation for Self-Love

(The Ritual That Changed Everything)

• Duration: 4–10 minutes

• Ideal Frequency: Daily or as needed

• Materials: A mirror (preferably one where you can see your full face), a quiet space, optional candle

Step-by-Step Practice:

1. Settle In:
Find a quiet spot with your mirror. Sit or stand comfortably.
If it feels right, place one or both hands over your heart center.

2. Breathe:
Take a few deep, slow breaths.
Let your nervous system unwind.
Arrive fully in your body.

3. Meet Your Gaze:
Gently open your eyes and look into the mirror.
Not at your features.
Not at your flaws.
Look into your own eyes.
Hold your gaze without judgment.

4. Speak Love:
Begin repeating, either silently or aloud:
“I love you.”

Say it like you mean it.
Say it like you’re speaking to a beloved who has weathered storms.

You can continue with:

• “I see you.”

• “I forgive you.”

• “You are enough.”

• “I love you.” (again and again)

5. Feel What Arises:
Let whatever comes up… come up.
Tears, numbness, anger, sadness—it’s all valid.
Stay with yourself. Keep breathing. Keep going.

6. Close Gently:
After a few minutes, soften your gaze.
Bring your palms to prayer at your heart center—or give yourself a hug.
End by whispering:
“Thank you.”

Thank yourself for showing up.

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What Happened When I Stuck With It

Each morning, no matter how I feel, I approach the mirror and devote a few minutes to myself.
It has truly become a daily devotion—a spiritual practice as much as an emotional one.

In that quiet time, I affirm my worth.
I cultivate gratitude for my existence.
I remind myself that I am worthy of my own love and care.

And something else has emerged from this mirror practice that I didn’t expect:
clarity about how I show up in the world.

Because when you spend enough time looking yourself in the eye and saying, “I love you,” it doesn’t stop there.
Eventually, you start to name the reasons why.

You start to say:

• I love your creativity.

• I love your stubborn strength.

• I love your weird sense of humor.

• I love your loyalty.

• I love your truth-telling.

You begin to see the fuller picture of yourself—not just what you’ve survived, but how you’ve chosen to keep showing up.
It becomes a meditation not only on self-love but on self-awareness.
On how your presence lands in the world around you.

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Pride Over Shame

This mirror work also dredged up some old wounds.
For years, the feedback I most often got—especially from people who didn’t know me deeply—was:
“She thinks she’s better than everyone.”

That line haunted me.
It made me question everything:
My confidence.
My standards.
Even the way I carried my body.

Was I arrogant?
Was I cold?
Was I wrong for simply taking up space?

But now—through this slow, tender rebuilding—I finally see the truth:

I am not full of hubris. I am full of pride.

There is a difference.

I have survived things that were incredibly hard—
Some wounds were self-inflicted.
Some were completely out of my control.

Trauma.
Grief.
Addiction.
Loneliness.

I have walked with all of them.
And I’m still here.

That is not arrogance.
That is resilience.
And that resilience deserves pride.

So if I walk into a room with my head high, it’s not because I think I’m better.
It’s because I refuse to shrink.

I’m not interested in being more palatable so others are comfortable.
I’m not interested in contorting myself to be more acceptable.

You either like me—or you don’t.
Either way, I’ll survive.
I’ll still be me.

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Loving Yourself Means Letting Yourself Be Big

Loving yourself isn’t about liking every little thing.
It’s not about becoming perfect.

It’s about making peace with how you move through the world.
It’s about embracing the whole of you—the soft, the sharp, the proud, the scarred.

It’s about no longer apologizing for your own light, even if it makes others squint.

And the mirror becomes the first place you learn how to see that light—
and honor it.

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Final Thought

Healing doesn’t happen in grand declarations.
It happens in tiny moments:
A hand over your heart.
A whisper through tears: “I love you.”
A stubborn refusal to abandon yourself—again and again and again.

Self-love is a remembering.
A practice.
A rebellion.

One breath at a time.
One gaze at a time.
One “I love you” at a time.

You are worthy.
You are beautiful.
You are enough.

Start where you are.
Even if all you can manage today is one whispered “I love you” before looking away.

That’s still a beginning.
That’s still a homecoming.
That’s still love.

In kindness,

The Floral Goose