There’s a voice in my head that used to say, “You’re not enough.” Sometimes it whispered. Sometimes it screamed. It wore different masks—“You’re not successful enough,” “You’re too sensitive,” “You don’t look like them.”
And for a long time, I believed it. I let that voice steer the wheel. I measured my worth by how much I accomplished, how many people approved, how little I messed up. If I failed, the voice said I was the failure. If someone left, the voice said I wasn’t lovable.
But here’s what I’ve learned—none of that was ever true.
I came across words from people like Louise Hay, Wayne Dyer, and Abraham Hicks when I was barely hanging on. Not in a dramatic, rock-bottom way, but in a silent suffering kind of way. The “I smile in public, but I’m quietly losing touch with myself” kind of way.
Louise Hay said, “You have been criticizing yourself for years and it hasn’t worked. Try approving of yourself and see what happens.”
At first, that felt like putting a Band-Aid on a bullet wound. Approve of myself? I didn’t even like myself. But I tried. Small things. I’d catch myself in the mirror and say, “Hey, I’m doing my best.” I’d place a hand on my chest when my anxiety spiked and whisper, “You’re safe. I’ve got you.”
It didn’t fix everything overnight. But it was a start. A reclamation.
Wayne Dyer reminded me that we are not our thoughts, but the awareness behind them. That changed everything. That meant the voice in my head wasn’t me—it was just noise. Programming. Echoes from the past. I didn’t have to believe everything I thought. I could choose again.
And Abraham Hicks? They taught me that the way I feel is my internal GPS. That joy, ease, relief—those aren’t just emotions. They’re clues. If something felt heavy, it wasn’t aligned with who I really am. And who I really am—who youreally are—is love. Not the romantic kind we chase, but the deep, steady hum of knowing: I matter. I am seen. I am safe to be fully me.
Let me be real with you. This isn’t about toxic positivity. Some days I still feel like crap. I question myself. I compare. I grieve the parts of me I used to reject. But now I come back quicker. I don’t stay stuck.
Because now I know: Beyond what I think of myself, beyond what others think, beyond the stories and scars—I am loved.
And so are you.
Even when you’re spiraling.
Even when you feel behind.
Even when you mess up or shut down or don’t know what the hell you’re doing with your life.
You are loved.
You are worthy.
You are whole.
Say it to yourself like a mantra, even if it feels weird:
- I am learning to love myself exactly as I am.
- I don’t have to be perfect to be lovable.
- I am enough, just by being me.
- I release the need to prove anything.
- I trust that love is always within me.
This isn’t about becoming someone new. It’s about remembering who you’ve always been beneath the noise. You don’t have to chase love. You are it.
So next time the voice in your head starts up, try this:
Smile gently.
Take a breath.
And say, “Thanks, but I’ve got this.”
Because you do.
And beyond what you think, beyond what the world reflects back at you on any given day—you are loved. Deeply. Eternally. Unshakably.