Breaking the Cycle: Learning to Love Myself After a Lifetime of Criticism

Many of the people I work with have experienced gender-based violence (GBV). What surprises me is how we, as a society, still categorize abuse into “real” and “not real” violence. A black eye? Undeniably abuse. But financial control—does that count? Mean words, constant belittling, being put down—these aren’t violence, right? Or maybe, just maybe, we are finally waking up.

One of the workshops I offer is about self-love. It’s about being kind to yourself, respecting yourself, and understanding what it truly means to love who you are. But how do you love yourself when you've never been taught how? How could it possibly come easy when so many of us were raised in homes where “love” came wrapped in constant criticism—especially from the very people who were supposed to nurture us?

How do we grow up to choose partners who lift us up when we've only known love that keeps us down?

I understand this struggle intimately. I am that girl. That woman. The one who still looks in the mirror and instinctively searches for flaws, as if they explain why I am not loved. I can still hear my mother’s voice: “If you didn’t have belly fat, you’d be beautiful.” I still fight against it.

I haven’t spoken to my mother in over six years. I remind myself—over and over—of my own beauty, of my worth beyond my cellulite, beyond the imperfections I was trained to see. And yet, her voice lingers. I still catch myself staring at my reflection, wondering if surgery could “fix” me, if being “fixed” would finally make me lovable.

Then, I snap out of it.

I remind myself that the only approval I truly need is my own.

Getting here hasn’t been easy. I’ve been through hell and back. Healing is not a single revelation—it’s a daily practice. Just as criticism was once a daily occurrence, self-love has to be, too. I remind myself every day who I am, what I’ve accomplished, and how I feel in my own skin.

And this is exactly what I try to bring into my sessions. I integrate my own experiences, what has worked for me, and how I’ve learned to see my body differently—to see the magic in it. I want people to feel empowered, to reconnect with themselves in a new way.

Today, that felt especially challenging.

I was working with young parents—mothers who have been abused over and over again. Women who have been dealt impossible cards and are now raising children while still being children themselves.

I had them place their hands on their hearts, to try and stay with the rhythm of their own beating for just a moment. Once upon a time, when we were all in our mother’s womb, we could only hear her heart. It was comforting. It was safe.

But today, someone realized just how painful and uncomfortable it was to listen to her own heart. A simple, gentle touch felt unbearable. She didn’t believe she was worthy of it.

And I knew that feeling.

“What do I do if I don’t believe what I’m saying?” she asked.

You say it anyway.

Just as the shield around our hearts softens the longer we hold it, the words we speak to ourselves will slowly start to sink in. Even if you don’t believe in your worth yet, say it anyway.

Fake it until you make it.

The more you repeat it, the more you hear it, the softer it gets. The easier it becomes. Fake it until you make it.

And one day, you won’t be faking it anymore.