Stewardship: The Practice of Self-Love

“Perhaps self-love is not admiration of the self at all. Perhaps it is stewardship.”

Recently, I watched a wonderful old video by Louise Hay, a pioneering self-help author, speaker, and founder of Hay House Publishing.

Long before “self-love” became a trendy phrase printed on coffee mugs and Instagram posts, Louise was encouraging people to look in the mirror, speak kindly to themselves, and heal the relationship they had with the person staring back at them. Her message was simple but profound: the relationship you have with yourself sets the tone for every other relationship in your life.

Self-love has become one of those phrases that risks losing its meaning through overuse. We hear it so often that it can sound cliché, indulgent, or even selfish.

But Louise Hay wasn’t talking about narcissism or self-obsession.

She was talking about self-respect.

Self-acceptance.

The radical act of treating yourself with the same compassion and understanding you would offer to someone you deeply love.

Yet the question remains.

What does self-love actually look like?

Not in theory.

Not as a hashtag.

Not as a motivational quote.

But in the ordinary moments of everyday life.

The older I get, the less interested I am in self-love as a concept and the more interested I am in self-love as a practice.

Because love, in any form, is rarely something we simply feel.

It is something we do.

We recognize love by its actions.

We recognize it in the people who show up.

The people who listen.

The people who encourage us.

The people who help us grow.

The people who care for our well-being.

And perhaps self-love is no different.

Perhaps the question isn’t whether we love ourselves.

Perhaps the question is how we care for the life we’ve been given.

Losing Sight of Ourselves

Loving yourself takes discipline and consistency, just like any other habit.

I often wonder how many of us stand in front of the mirror and have truly kind, delightful conversations with ourselves. For many people, self-loathing seems to come far more naturally than self-love.

But why?

I don’t believe we are born that way.

We enter this world believing we are worthy of love simply because we exist. Somewhere along the way, we begin collecting evidence against ourselves. Criticism. Rejection. Failure. Heartbreak. Expectations we couldn’t meet. We begin seeing ourselves through the eyes of others, and sometimes those eyes are unable to see us clearly.

Perhaps self-loathing isn’t something we gain.

Perhaps it’s something that accumulates over the truth.

And what if what we’ve lost isn’t self-love at all?

What if we’ve simply lost sight of it?

What if the person staring back at us in the mirror is the same person who once believed they were enough, but has become buried beneath years of doubt, disappointment, fear, and stories that were never theirs to carry?

The Invitation to Grow

I often think the bigger questions of life—purpose, meaning, identity, and ego—eventually find all of us.

There comes a point when we are invited to look inward and ask ourselves who we are beneath our accomplishments, our failures, our titles, and our wounds.

At those moments, we have a choice.

We can continue down the familiar road, repeating the same patterns and telling ourselves the same stories.

Or we can choose growth.

Growth, however, is rarely glamorous.

It isn’t linear.

It isn’t easy.

It doesn’t arrive all at once in some grand moment of enlightenment.

More often, it arrives quietly through tiny decisions repeated day after day.

A kind word to ourselves in the mirror.

A boundary we should have set long ago.

A difficult conversation.

A walk instead of an excuse.

A moment of gratitude instead of criticism.

Tiny habits.

Tiny acts of courage.

Over time, those small choices begin to shape us. They help us shed the layers of conditioning that have obscured who we truly are. They quiet the ego’s need to prove itself. They bring us back to ourselves.

Creativity as an Act of Love

For me, self-love often looks like creativity.

This year, my blog celebrates its tenth anniversary.

Ten years.

A decade of recipes, stories, reflections, lessons, triumphs, mistakes, and growth documented one post at a time.

When I started writing, I never imagined how much that simple act would shape my life. The blog became more than a collection of recipes or thoughts. It became a record of who I was, who I was becoming, and the things I was learning along the way.

Looking back through those pages is like flipping through a scrapbook of my own evolution.

There are seasons of joy.

Seasons of uncertainty.

Moments of reinvention.

Perhaps that is one of the greatest gifts of creativity.

It allows us to witness our own becoming.

Self-love also looks like creating.

It looks like writing a blog for ten years and watching your thoughts, recipes, lessons, and experiences evolve over time.

It looks like sitting down day after day to write a novel.

Not a chapter.

Not a few pages.

An entire novel.

A world that did not exist until you imagined it.

Characters who slowly revealed themselves.

A story that demanded patience, discipline, faith, and persistence.

There were undoubtedly days when the words flowed and days when they didn’t. Days when the story felt alive and days when it felt impossible.

But the novel exists because I kept showing up.

Creativity teaches us that we do not have to be inspired every day.

We simply have to be willing.

Willing to begin.

Willing to continue.

Willing to trust the process.

Self-love often looks exactly like that.

Not perfection.

Not certainty.

Just the willingness to keep showing up for something that matters.

It looks like plating a beautifully prepared dish and treating food as art.

It looks like decorating a porch.

Planting herbs.

Arranging flowers.

Hanging lights around a lime tree.

Creating spaces that feel peaceful, welcoming, and alive.

There is something deeply satisfying about taking ordinary ingredients, ordinary objects, and ordinary moments and transforming them into something beautiful.

A thoughtfully plated meal tells the people gathered around the table, “You matter. This moment matters.”

And perhaps it tells us the same thing.

There is something sacred about creating beauty.

Not because beauty is necessary for survival, but because it nourishes the soul.

Caring for the Body

Self-love looks like movement.

It is running when my body craves freedom.

It is yoga when I need grounding.

It is Pilates when I need strength.

It is choosing movement not because I am trying to become someone else, but because I am honoring the body that carries me through this life.

Sometimes self-love looks like rest.

Sometimes it looks like saying no.

Sometimes it looks like walking away from situations that no longer align with who I am becoming.

It looks like listening to my intuition and trusting it.

That quiet voice inside us often knows the truth long before our minds are willing to accept it.

Self-love is also nourishment.

This August marks ten years since I adopted a vegan lifestyle.

What began as a decision about food eventually became something much larger. It became a daily practice of living more intentionally and more consciously.

Over the past decade, I have learned that food is about so much more than what is on our plates. It is connected to our health, our values, our communities, our environment, and our relationship with ourselves.

For me, eating whole, plant-based foods has always felt like an expression of self-love.

The more I fill my plate with vibrant fruits, vegetables, whole grains, legumes, herbs, and foods alive with color and nutrients, the more alive I feel.

My energy is steadier.

My thoughts are clearer.

My body feels stronger and more capable.

Nutrition supports not only the health of the body but also the health of the mind.

Food is information.

Every meal is a message we send to our bodies.

And every meal is an opportunity to ask a simple question:

How do I want to feel?

Because nourishment is about so much more than feeding hunger.

It is about feeding life itself.

Boundaries and Self-Respect

As someone who naturally nurtures and cares for others, I have learned that this work is especially important.

Giving comes easily to me.

Offering compassion comes easily.

Supporting others comes easily.

Offering those same things to myself has often required more intention.

I have learned that I must be just as willing to care for myself as I am to care for everyone around me.

I have learned to recognize where my boundaries are and trust myself enough to honor them.

Another lesson I’ve learned is that not everyone deserves a vote in how we see ourselves.

There are people who would have us believe that we are always the problem.

That if we were different, quieter, easier, less emotional, less ambitious, more accommodating, or somehow “better,” everything would be fine.

Yet those same people are often unwilling to examine their own behavior or take responsibility for the role they play in a relationship.

Self-love asks us to consider feedback.

But it also asks us to question criticism.

It asks us to discern the difference between someone helping us grow and someone trying to convince us that we are inherently flawed.

We are responsible for our actions, our choices, and our growth.

But we are not responsible for carrying someone else’s unwillingness to grow.

How Self-Love Changed My Leadership

One of the unexpected outcomes of this journey has been the way it has changed my leadership.

For years, I thought leadership was something separate from personal growth.

Now I’m not so sure.

The more I’ve learned to trust myself, the more I’ve learned to trust others.

The more I’ve learned about boundaries, the more clearly I can communicate expectations.

The more I’ve practiced accountability in my own life, the more fairly I can hold others accountable.

The more secure I’ve become in who I am, the less I need to control how other people show up.

Perhaps self-love has made me a better leader.

Not because I think more highly of myself.

But because I understand people better.

Including myself.

I’ve learned that people want many of the same things we all want.

To feel seen.

To feel heard.

To feel respected.

To feel valued.

Even some of the most challenging people I’ve worked with have taught me this lesson.

When people feel respected, something begins to shift.

Communication improves.

Trust begins to grow.

Walls come down.

People become more willing to take responsibility for themselves because they no longer feel the need to defend themselves at every turn.

That doesn’t mean expectations disappear.

In fact, quite the opposite.

Healthy relationships require both compassion and accountability.

There is a level of respect that I expect from others, just as there is a level of respect I expect from myself.

When that respect is absent, we talk about it.

Not because conflict is enjoyable.

Not because anyone is being punished.

But because growth requires honesty.

What I’ve discovered is that boundaries do more than protect us.

They teach.

They teach people how we expect to be treated.

They teach people how to communicate.

They teach people what accountability looks like.

And sometimes they even teach people how to respect themselves.

Perhaps that’s the connection between self-love and leadership.

The work we do on ourselves never belongs only to us.

It ripples outward.

It changes our relationships.

It changes our communities.

It changes the way we show up for the people around us.

And if we’re fortunate, it helps create an environment where everyone has a chance to grow.

Including us.

Discernment and Self-Possession

Perhaps one of the highest forms of self-love is discernment.

Not everything deserves our attention.

Not every opinion deserves our agreement.

Not every criticism deserves a permanent place in our identity.

A discerning person knows the difference.

They know the difference between feedback and criticism.

Between accountability and blame.

Between confidence and arrogance.

Between self-possession and self-obsession.

They recognize these qualities not only in others, but within themselves.

Discernment protects the relationship we have with ourselves.

It helps us understand what belongs to us and what does not.

It allows us to accept responsibility without accepting shame.

It allows us to remain open to growth without abandoning our self-respect.

Discernment requires honesty.

It asks us to examine our motives, question our assumptions, and acknowledge our blind spots.

It asks us to see clearly.

A self-possessed person knows who they are.

A self-obsessed person needs constant reassurance about who they are.

Self-possession is rooted in confidence.

Self-obsession is often rooted in insecurity.

The self-possessed person does not need to be the center of attention. They do not need to dominate every conversation or prove their worth. They are comfortable enough with themselves that they can be fully present with others.

They listen.

They learn.

They remain curious.

They celebrate the successes of others without feeling diminished by them.

The self-possessed person does not need to be the smartest person in the room because they are secure enough to learn from others.

They do not need to win every argument because their identity is not threatened by disagreement.

They do not need to control every outcome because they trust themselves to navigate whatever comes next.

For many years, I thought self-love meant feeling good about myself.

Now I think it has far more to do with trusting myself.

Trusting my values.

Trusting my intuition.

Trusting my ability to learn from my mistakes and continue growing.

Trusting that I can hear difficult truths without allowing them to define me.

Trusting that I can accept responsibility for my actions without accepting responsibility for things that do not belong to me.

That kind of trust creates freedom.

It frees us from the exhausting need to seek validation from everyone around us.

It frees us from the belief that every criticism must be true.

It frees us from the constant comparison that keeps us focused on what we lack rather than what we can contribute.

In many ways, self-possession is the result of genuine self-love.

It is what happens when we stop seeking our worth from external sources and begin cultivating it from within.

Perhaps true self-love does not make us more self-centered.

Perhaps it makes us less so.

Because once we are no longer consumed with proving our value, we are finally free to contribute it.

Perhaps wisdom is not found in having all the answers.

Perhaps wisdom is found in learning to discern the difference.

The difference between what serves us and what diminishes us.

The difference between what belongs to us and what belongs to someone else.

The difference between who we truly are and who others expect us to be.

Perhaps self-love is not about believing everything we think about ourselves.

Perhaps it is about seeing ourselves clearly enough to know what is true, what is not, and what deserves our attention.

That, too, is stewardship.

Stewardship

Perhaps self-love is not admiration of the self at all.

Perhaps it is stewardship.

Perhaps it is recognizing that we have been entrusted with a life—one body, one mind, one heart, one brief and beautiful existence—and choosing to care for those things with intention.

It is tending to our health so we have the energy to pursue our purpose.

It is nourishing our bodies so our minds can think clearly.

It is creating beauty because beauty feeds the soul.

It is surrounding ourselves with people who challenge us, support us, and inspire us.

It is setting boundaries where necessary and opening our hearts where possible.

It is remaining curious enough to keep learning and humble enough to know we do not have all the answers.

Perhaps self-love is not something we feel.

Perhaps it is something we practice.

A thousand small choices made every day in service of becoming the fullest expression of who we were meant to be.

The goal is not to think more highly of ourselves.

Nor is it to think less of ourselves.

The goal is simply to think of ourselves less often.

To know who we are.

To trust who we are.

And then to turn our attention outward—to our work, our communities, our relationships, and the ways we can make the world a little better than we found it.

Not perfect.

Just a little wiser.

A little kinder.

A little healthier.

A little braver.

And a little more ourselves each day.

✨🥕🍋🌿💚

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