Today’s writing prompt asks: Can you share a positive example of where you’ve felt loved? I’ve shared many stories of being loved by others—especially my beloved Little Grandma Rose, whose warmth I honored in The Most Beautiful Baby and A Tribute to My Little Grandma Rose.

But today, I’m finally ready to talk about a kind of love we don’t speak about enough: self-love.

The Shadow in the Mirror

I didn’t learn self-love early. At 18, after having my first son, I remember standing in front of the mirror, naked, shocked by how pregnancy had reshaped my body. I was already overweight—but this new softness, the changes, the stretched skin—it all felt foreign. I worried my husband at the time wouldn’t love me anymore.

Later, I learned he had never been attracted to me at all—a wound that cuts deep at any age, but especially at 18. It planted a lie in me: my body wasn’t worthy, and neither was I.
I carried that pain silently for decades.

A Living Map of Survival

But something shifted slowly, over years, in quiet ways I didn’t expect. A few years ago—long before the community center, long before this current season of movement and intentional wellness—I started making peace with my tummy. I’ve never been someone who lives in self-loathing; even in my hardest seasons, I’ve always tried to find the good, the meaning, the lesson.

And with time and reflection, I began to see my tummy differently.

This tummy has been through pregnancies, heartbreak, anxiety, stress, healing, trauma, laughter, and every season in between.
The stretch marks, the softened skin, the surgical scars—they aren’t “flaws.”
They’re a living map of survival.
A testament to life lived, life carried, life birthed, and life endured.

And in that shift, I realized:

I don’t hate my tummy at all.
I respect it. I love it. I am grateful for it.

Because there is nothing wrong with me.
There has never been anything wrong with me.

It is a momma tummy.
It is my tummy.
And it deserves tenderness—not punishment.
Love—not judgment.

That realization was one of the first true acts of self-love I ever gave myself.

The Milestone and the Truth

Fast-forward to today—January 15, 2026—and I get to share something I’ve been working toward for ten long years:

I am officially 100 pounds down from my heaviest weight.

No shots, no shortcuts, no trends—just consistency, intention, and a promise to myself:
Keep showing up. Presence is everything.

After all these years, I’ve returned to a size I haven’t seen in about 31 years.
It doesn’t feel like coming back to something I lost—
it feels like stepping into a version of me that has been waiting patiently for the right season to bloom.

But the milestone itself isn’t the moment I felt loved.

The moment I felt loved came before the weight loss—in the quiet choices I made over and over again:

When I walked into the community center on days I didn’t feel strong.
When I swam my first lap in years and felt my body whisper, “Thank you.”
When movement stopped being punishment and became kindness.
When I left work early during a panic episode and chose rest without shame.
When I listened to my body and adjusted my CherryCo Tonic ritual to the gut-friendly blend that supports me best.

Those choices weren’t small.
They were self-love in action.

The Daily Returning

For those who’ve walked this path with me, you’ve seen the layers unfold in posts like Small Wins: Strong Heart, A Thousand Small Wins, and The Paradox of the Fixed Frame. Each one has been a chapter in this longer story—this season of reclaiming myself.

Today, I am 100 pounds lighter—but more importantly, I am richer in self-love than I’ve ever been.
The girl who stood in that mirror at 18 and felt unworthy finally gets to meet the woman who knows better.

Self-love isn’t loud.
It’s steady.
It’s patient.
It’s the quiet choosing of yourself again and again.

It’s the food you choose.
The movement you enjoy.
The boundaries you set.
The rest you allow.
The gentle ways you return to yourself, every single time.

Self-love isn’t a destination.
It’s a daily returning.

A Sacred Foundation

So yes—I have felt deeply loved by others.
My Little Grandma Rose loved me in a way that still glows inside my heart, even now, 21 years after her passing.
She taught me how to receive love with an open heart.
It just took me years to learn how to give that same love to myself.

But the positive example I want to share today is this one:

I felt loved the day I realized I was showing up for myself—consistently, intentionally, and beautifully.

Self-love isn’t selfish.
It’s sacred.
It’s survival.
And it’s the foundation for every other kind of love we give and receive.

If you’re reading this and navigating your own journey—whether it’s weight, wellness, or simply trying to make it through the noise—please hear me:

You are not behind.
You are not failing.
You are not unworthy.
You are simply one choice away from returning to yourself.

I’m still drinking my gut-friendly CherryCo Tonic in the evenings, still swimming, still writing, and still becoming.
I’m preparing to meet the next version of myself, and she feels closer every day.

Love to live and live to love, always and forever.
I didn’t arrive here; I was built this way.
This is the heart I’ve carried through every chapter — and it’s the one carrying me forward now.