All the Ways I've Come Back to Myself

I used to think self-love was loud.
Bold affirmations. Big decisions. A spotless track record.
But now, I understand it’s often quieter—
a whisper of grace in the middle of the mess.
A deep breath in the chaos. A pause before the spiral.
What follows are ten quiet truths I’ve learned to love about who I am becoming.

1. I'm Growing... Inch by Stubborn Inch

I appreciate how much I’ve grown.
And how that growth didn’t come all at once,
but in slow, stubborn inches.
It wasn’t pretty. It wasn’t always clear.
But it happened—through years, through setbacks, through the quiet unraveling of the person I used to be.
I used to criticize myself over everything: the undone task, the misspoken word, the silence in a room.
Now, I see those things for what they are—just moments, not definitions.
I give myself the same grace I’ve so easily given others.

2. I'm Learning to Let Life Simmer

I appreciate my patience.
With myself, with others, with the timing of it all.
I don’t rush to fix everything anymore.
I let things simmer.
I trust that answers come when they’re ready, not when I demand them.
It’s a patience that feels like peace instead of punishment now.
Even in moments of frustration, I remind myself that nothing blooms before its time.

3. I'm Burning the Books of Regret

I appreciate the way I forgive.
Not just others, but myself.
I used to keep a record of all my wrongs—
pages and pages of things I wished I had done differently.
But I’ve burned those books.
Now, I forgive out loud.
Not because everything is okay,
but because I deserve to move forward.

4. Softness Is My Superpower

I appreciate my gentleness.
Especially with loved ones, and with the parts of me I used to abandon.
I’m softer than I was a few years ago.
Not weaker—just more willing to listen.
I hold things more carefully now: emotions, relationships, my own heart.
Gentleness has become my strength, not my flaw.

5. I'm Learning the Art of Letting Go

I appreciate my ability to let go.
I still love a clean space. I still organize to calm my mind.
But I no longer unravel when life gets messy.
Sometimes, the dishes wait.
Sometimes, my shelves are cluttered.
And that’s okay.
I’ve learned how to sit in the storm without needing to sweep it away.

6. Motherhood Didn't Erase Me—It Expanded Me

I appreciate how motherhood reshaped me.
I once feared it would erase me.
I thought becoming a mother meant giving up who I was.
But I was wrong.
Motherhood has deepened me—
rooted me in something more powerful than ambition or image.
My daughter didn’t just make me a mother—
she made me softer, sharper, more grounded.
More alive.
She taught me that love is an action long before it's a feeling.

7. The Ongoing Pep Talks I Give Myself

I appreciate how I talk to myself now.
The voice in my head used to be cruel.
Now, it’s curious. Encouraging. Gentle.
Sometimes, I talk to myself out loud while my daughter plays nearby.
She doesn’t understand most of it.
But she watches. And maybe she hears love in the tone.
She’s there, quietly cheering me on.
And I like to think I’m teaching her what kindness sounds like—by modeling it, even in private.

8. I'm Letting My Sadness Breathe

I appreciate how I hold space for my sadness.
I don’t shove it down anymore.
I let it breathe.
I cry when I need to.
I write it out.
I don’t apologize for feeling heavy.
I just hold myself through it, the way I would a friend.

9. I Don't Chase People Anymore

I appreciate how I’ve stopped chasing people.
Especially the ones who only showed up for the version of me they liked best.
I don’t beg for closeness.
I don’t perform for acceptance.
If you’re in my life now, it’s because we chose each other—mutually, freely, and with care.

10. Coming Home to My Voice (and My Faith)

I appreciate that I’ve come back to writing.
To creating.
To letting the light back in, even when it stings.
Writing used to be survival.
Now, it’s healing.
It’s how I return to myself when the world pulls me in every direction.
I stopped hiding my voice, and started honoring it.
That, more than anything, feels like coming home.

And quietly, steadily—
I appreciate how my faith has endured.
Through doubt. Through silence.
Through seasons where I questioned everything,
and seasons where hope was the only thing left standing.
My faith didn’t stay the same.
It grew with me—became something gentler, deeper, more real.
A quiet tether back to grace,
even when I forgot I was holding on.

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Author's Note

This piece was written as part of the unofficial Self-Appreciation Challenge on Vocal, hosted by Rick Henry Christopher. You can find the challenge here: