The Love I Thought Was Only for Everyone Else

For most of my life, I thought unconditional love was something you gave to other people.

You loved your children unconditionally.

You loved your family unconditionally.

You loved the wounded people in your life unconditionally.

You looked at someone you loved and saw past their mistakes. You considered their childhood, their trauma, their fears. You understood that sometimes people behaved badly because they were hurting. You saw the humanity underneath the mess.

At least, I did.

I could extend grace for miles.

I could look at someone else and say:

You’re struggling.

You’re learning.

You made a mistake.

You’re wounded.

You’re human.

You’re still worthy of love.

But when it came to Jasmine?

Apparently, there were terms and conditions.

Fine print.

Performance reviews.

Quarterly evaluations.

A constantly moving finish line.

I would love Jasmine when she lost the weight.

I would respect Jasmine when she accomplished something impressive.

I would be proud of Jasmine when she became successful.

I would think Jasmine was special when someone else decided she was special.

I would believe Jasmine was worth choosing when someone finally chose her and stayed.

I would let Jasmine be bubbly and loud and joyful when she was officially appointed to some position that gave her permission.

Maybe if she’d become a cheerleader.

Maybe if she became a CEO.

Maybe if she became a bestselling author.

Maybe if she built a successful business.

Maybe then I could finally look at her and say:

Okay.

Now you’ve done enough.

Now I respect you.

Now you’ve earned my love.

I didn’t realize how cruel that was.

Because I would never look at my children and say:

“I’ll love you when you become impressive.”

I wouldn’t tell someone I loved:

“Come back when you’ve fixed every flaw, healed every wound, lost the weight, stopped making mistakes, and become the version of yourself I think you should be.”

But somehow, that’s exactly what I had been telling myself.

I thought unconditional love was sacred.

I just didn’t realize I was included in it.

I Had Conditions for Jasmine

That’s the realization that stopped me.

I had spent so much of my life trying to love other people through their imperfections while withholding that same grace from myself.

Other people were allowed to have bad days.

Jasmine should know better.

Other people were allowed to struggle.

Jasmine needed to get it together.

Other people deserved compassion for the things they’d been through.

Jasmine needed to stop making excuses.

Other people were human.

Jasmine was apparently supposed to be some kind of flawlessly regulated, perfectly healed, thin, successful, socially graceful, endlessly productive spiritual being who never got triggered, never looked bad in a photograph, and never ate dairy without remembering she was lactose intolerant.

Good luck with that.

The standard was impossible.

And then something happened.

I started healing.

Not becoming perfect.

Healing.

And healing didn’t turn me into the woman I thought I needed to become before I could love myself.

It did something far more beautiful.

It taught me how to love the woman who was already here.

I started noticing Jasmine.

Really noticing her.

Not evaluating her.

Not correcting her.

Not comparing her.

Not standing outside of her with a clipboard deciding whether she had finally earned a passing grade.

I just looked at her.

And for the first time, I think I saw her clearly.

Jasmine is silly.

Jasmine is bubbly.

Jasmine is kind.

Jasmine is giving.

Jasmine is welcoming.

Jasmine is warm.

Jasmine is joyful.

Jasmine is imperfect.

She gets things wrong.

She has shadows.

She has wounds.

She sometimes says the wrong thing.

She sometimes gets triggered.

She sometimes needs to apologize.

She sometimes takes terrible selfies.

She has a scar on her throat.

She has white hairs growing through the black hair she has always loved.

She has a body that has changed.

She has fears she’s still uncovering.

She has lessons she’s still learning.

And somehow, for the first time in my life, none of those things disqualify her from my love.

Because Jasmine tries.

Jasmine cares.

Jasmine is kind.

And Jasmine matters.

That is enough.

She was always enough.

Fierce Love

I used to think unconditional self-love meant believing I was perfect.

I understand it differently now.

Unconditional self-love doesn’t mean:

Everything I do is right.

It means:

Even when I’m wrong, I will not abandon myself.

If I hurt someone, I will apologize.

But I will not hate myself.

If I discover an ugly pattern, I will face it.

But I will not shame myself.

If I find another shadow hiding underneath my behavior, I will get curious.

I will sit beside myself and say:

“Oh, sweetheart. Is that what you’ve been believing all this time?”

And then we’ll work on it together.

That’s the difference.

I used to heal by going to war with myself.

Now I heal because I love myself.

That is fierce love.

Fierce love says:

You can mess up.

I’m staying.

You can gain weight.

I’m staying.

You can be awkward.

I’m staying.

You can embarrass yourself.

I’m staying.

Someone can reject you.

I’m staying.

Someone can misunderstand you.

I’m staying.

You can disappoint someone.

I’m staying.

You can have a bad day.

I’m staying.

You can discover that there’s still another wound underneath the wound you just healed.

Baby, I’m still staying.

I will correct you when necessary.

I will challenge you when you’re hiding.

I will hold you accountable when you’re wrong.

I will encourage you to grow.

But I will never again use your humanity as justification for abandoning you.

We are in this together now.

Me and Jasmine.

For life.

I Was Worth Healing For

Recently, a coworker asked me if I was still married.

I told him no. The marriage had ended after six weeks, but I wasn’t single. I had a boyfriend and we lived together.

He smiled and said:

“I bet you are worth it.”

The investigator in me immediately wanted to ask:

Worth what?

But the philosopher in me said:

Don’t ask.

Leave it open-ended.

Because I know how to finish that sentence now.

I am worth healing for.

I know because I healed for me.

I am worth showing up for.

I know because I show up for myself every day.

I am worth working for.

I know because every time I clock in, I am helping build the life I want to experience and the life I want to provide for my family.

I am worth protecting.

I know because I learned to create boundaries.

I am worth staying for.

I know because every morning I wake up and choose to live another day as this wonderfully strange, whimsical human being named Jasmine.

I am worth loving.

I know because I finally stopped waiting for someone else’s love to prove it.

I love her.

And no one choosing me could ever matter as much as my decision to choose myself.

The Person I Was Waiting For

Maybe that’s what I misunderstood all along.

I spent years waiting to be chosen.

By relationships.

By friends.

By opportunities.

By the world.

I thought someone else’s choosing would finally settle the question of my worth.

But the person whose choice mattered most was the person I kept overlooking.

Me.

Because the entire world could choose Jasmine, and if Jasmine continued abandoning herself, she would still feel unchosen.

But when Jasmine chose Jasmine?

Everything changed.

I stopped waiting for permission to be silly.

I stopped waiting for permission to be whimsical.

I stopped waiting for permission to be joyful.

I wore the big pink bow.

I put on the bright red lipstick.

I filled my pockets with ridiculous stickers.

I showed up on the factory floor as myself.

And somewhere along the way, I realized:

Oh.

There you are.

There is the girl I had been trying to become.

Except I wasn’t becoming her.

I was finally allowing her.

Healing didn’t create Jasmine.

Healing removed everything that convinced me Jasmine needed permission to exist.

Unconditional Love Includes You

Maybe we need to rethink the way we talk about unconditional love.

We tell people to love their children unconditionally.

Love their families.

Extend grace.

Forgive.

Understand.

See the humanity in others.

But perhaps we need to turn some of that love inward.

Because you are human too.

You are going to make mistakes.

You are going to have wounds.

You are going to find shadows.

You are going to have days when you don’t recognize the person in the mirror.

You will change.

Your body will change.

Your dreams may change.

People may leave.

People may misunderstand you.

You may disappoint yourself.

None of that means you have to revoke your own love.

You don’t have to wait for the perfect version of yourself before you earn your own respect.

You don’t have to accomplish something enormous before you’re allowed to be proud of yourself.

You don’t have to become thinner.

Richer.

More successful.

More healed.

More enlightened.

More anything.

You can love the person standing here now.

And from that love, you can grow.

Maybe that’s the secret I was missing.

I thought self-love was the reward waiting for me at the end of healing.

It wasn’t.

Self-love was the environment I needed in order to heal.

I didn’t need to become better so I could finally love Jasmine.

I needed to love Jasmine so fiercely that she finally felt safe enough to become everything she already was.

And today, I can look at this woman—the whole beautiful, imperfect creature—and say something I once thought I needed someone else to say:

I choose you.

Not the future you.

Not the thinner you.

Not the bestselling-author you.

Not the perfectly healed you.

You.

Right now.

The silly one.

The scarred one.

The kind one.

The learning one.

The one who tries.

The one who matters.

The unique little spark of the Divine that came here and answered to the name Jasmine.

I choose her.

A lifetime of healing.

And this time, I am staying.

❤️‍🩹

🌷 Closing Invitation

A Moment to Reflect

If you stripped away every achievement…

Every title.

Every relationship.

Every expectation.

Every version of yourself you’ve been trying to earn…

Would you still choose you?

If that question feels difficult, that’s okay.

It once felt impossible for me too.

Today, try something simple.

Stand in front of a mirror.

Look at the person looking back—not to evaluate, fix, or criticize—but simply to notice.

Then whisper the words you may have spent your whole life waiting to hear:

I choose you.

Not because you’ve become perfect.

Not because you’ve finally earned it.

Because you’ve always been worthy of staying with.

May today be another day you choose yourself—with compassion, honesty, and fierce love.

❤️