FROM SELF-CRITICISM TO SELF-LOVE: MY STORY OF DISCOVERING SELF-WORTH

You are worthy - Photo by Pavel Danilyuk: https://www.pexels.com

As I continue my end-of-year reflection, I want to share a story that has been a significant part of my journey this year. This is a story I’ve written intentionally, not only to share but also to keep as a personal reminder. It’s a story about discovering self-worth, my journey from self-criticism to self-love.

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Three journals from three years ago sat on my desk, their presence raising a question: should I keep them or let them go? A while back, I had discarded one journal because it held nothing of value—no lessons, no insights—only memories I wanted to leave in the past. Using the same reasoning, I wondered if I should do the same with the remaining three.

One by one I opened my journal and randomly read some pages. I reckoned that something about my writing had changed. I could see I’d begun to analyze things differently, with more depth. So, I thought those journals felt worth holding onto, at least for now, as a way to trace my growth. But as I revisited them, I noticed they were also filled with stories I preferred not to revisit—moments and feelings best left behind.

While reviewing the journals, one phrase jumped out at me: “low self-worth,” scrawled among a long list of weaknesses I’d cataloged about myself. Seeing it felt strangely familiar. It was the same realization I had recently written about in a story explaining why I dislike people remembering my birthday. Yet there was a striking difference.

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When I was writing that story, acknowledging my low self-worth had felt like an epiphany - a moment of clarity. It helped me connect the dots between my feelings, choices, and actions. But reading those three journals didn’t evoke the same revelation. Logically, I had known this about myself for years. So why did it feel so different this time?

A couple of weeks later, I was cleaning up my inbox after Google’s storage warning reminded me it was nearly full. Amid the digital clutter, I stumbled upon old emails I hadn’t even remembered keeping. Reading through them felt like stepping into a time machine, each message pulling me back into the past. Many of them were irrelevant, so I deleted them without opening them. Except for one series of emails—from someone I hadn’t thought about in ages.

Curiosity got the better of me. I started reading. The first email was from my last night in the States, just before I flew back to Indonesia. In it, he poured out his feelings, his perceptions of himself, and how he imagined I saw him. 

I was frozen, transported back to that night. I remembered the whirlwind of emotions when reading that email—shock, confusion, and not knowing how to respond. My brain could barely process what he had written as it had been a busy, overwhelming day for me at that time as I had to do the last packing, inform the apartment management, and attend the last dinner with some friends. So, my reply was polite but vague—a kind gesture rather than a genuine response.

Also read: The Two-Journal Method: My Journey to a Life Changing Method

A week later, he wrote again, sharing how different life felt without me there. He wrote so much, yet my reply was once again cursory. At that time, I didn’t understand the depth of his words. I thought he was exaggerating, and I dismissed it as a normal part of friendship—kindness without deeper significance.

But now, many years later, reading those emails, I see it differently. It felt like I was viewing everything from a drone high above, gaining a much clearer perspective on what had happened.

Back then, I couldn’t fully grasp what he meant because, in my mind, everything I did felt completely ordinary. To me, what I did was just common courtesy, a simple social norm we all follow with acquaintances and friends. Seriously, there was nothing special about it.

But I guess we never truly know what someone else is going through. We don’t know the hardship that they face. That’s why we are always reminded to be kind to each other because we never know if our small acts of kindness—a smile, listening, or a few thoughtful words—can carry immense weight for someone in need. 

Looking at this now, I think I get a better picture of why back then I didn’t see myself the way he described me. Well, even though the truth might be bitter, I admit that I only saw my flaws, my weaknesses, my endless list of inadequacies.

Also read: One Atomic Habit That Transformed My Life This Year

And that was the missing link.

I couldn’t recognize the good he saw in me because I didn’t see it in myself. I was so focused on my imperfections that I couldn’t imagine being worthy of the praise he offered. At the time, I hated myself. I regretted so much and wished I could have done things differently.

Now, looking back, I have more compassion for the person I was. I’ve started to practice self-love, which has shifted my perspective. When I wrote "low self-worth" years ago, it came from a place of self-loathing—a way to berate myself further, disguised as an attempt at self-improvement. Instead of lifting me up, it dragged me down further.

But now, when I acknowledge my struggles with self-worth, it comes from a place of understanding and acceptance. This realization wasn’t about judging myself; it was about embracing the pain and beginning to heal. That’s why it feels so different now.

Somehow, this journey reminds me of Bloom’s Taxonomy, the stages of thinking that move from gathering information to gaining knowledge, comprehension, and ultimately synthesis, where new meaning emerges. Recognizing my low self-worth through self-love has been transformative. It’s a milestone, not the end of the journey but a meaningful turning point.

I read his email once again and made a conscious effort to accept the qualities he saw in me—not with skepticism, but with wholehearted appreciation. It felt like I was depositing into my emotional bank account—attributed to Stephen Covey for this brilliant concept.  

Slowly, I could feel something different in my heart as I was allowing that feeling to take up the space and fill my heart in. I felt like there were wide open arms in my heart to welcome the feeling. That experience was subtle yet profound. Instead of feeling resistance or defensiveness, I felt a quiet sense of openness and acceptance, as though I was finally allowing myself to embrace a part of me I had long denied.

Reflecting on all of this, I realize how God guides us to learn and grow, one step at a time. Sometimes it takes years, even decades, to move from one stage to the next, but that slow progress is still a sign of moving forward. This journey has taught me to be more patient with myself when I don’t understand something right away, trusting that when the time is right, God will reveal what I need to know. After all, as the saying goes, when the student is ready, the teacher will appear.

Now, as I continue on this journey of self-acceptance, I’m learning to honor the kindness of others, not just as a reflection of their generosity, but as a mirror showing me the worth I’ve always had. This understanding feels like a quiet victory—a step toward seeing myself as whole, flaws and all.

There’s definitely still a long way to go for me. Overcoming deeply ingrained patterns of self-criticism takes time, but reaching this stage is already a significant step. For now, I hold onto that hope and the newfound perspective it brings.