Happy Valentine’s Day!
As I’m writing this, it’s Valentine’s Day – a day that used to make me feel hyper-aware of what I didn’t have. So before anything else, I want to wish you a belated and happy Valentine’s Day. Whether you spent it with someone, with friends, or by yourself, I hope this day felt gentle. I hope it felt honest.
With that being said, let me throw it out there. A year ago, I did not like myself very much.
I wouldn’t have admitted that out loud to a lot of people. I would’ve laughed it off, blamed it on stress, school, “just a weird phase.” However, if I’m being honest, my self-esteem was at its lowest. I lost several friends – people I genuinely believed were the best people to be around, the kind of friends I thought would be permanent. When those friendships fell apart, it felt like losing pieces of my identity on top of losing who I thought were my best friends for life.
I started questioning everything about myself. Was I too emotional? Too intense? Not enough? TOO MUCH? I replayed conversations over and over in my head, analyzing every word, every pause, every shift in tone. I convinced myself that if multiple friendships ended, then I had to be the problem.
So, I became distant.
I avoided people at all costs. I stayed on campus “being busy.” I took longer routes to avoid bumping into anyone I knew. If someone approached me, I could turn it on instantly. I smiled, of course, joked, made eye contact, played the role of someone who was fine essentially. Internally, however, I was anxious almost every time I had to talk. My chest tightened, stabbed, compressed even. My mind would race, and I was hyper-aware of how I sounded, how I stood, how I was perceived. Social interactions felt like performances, and I was exhausted from being on stage all the time.
I told myself I liked being alone, but truthfully, I was scared of being seen, and I was scared of not being seen at the same time. Throughout last year, something shifted, and I went to therapy. I always looked into it, but I made the impulsive decision to actually follow through my thoughts.
At first, I didn’t even know what to say. I was just crying all the time and word-vomitting. I was so used to minimizing my feelings that speaking them out loud felt dramatic. I kept thinking, “It’s not that deep.”
Week after week, I showed up, and slowly, I began unpacking why rejection hit me so hard in addition to figuring out why losing friends felt like proof that I was unworthy and why I believed my value depended on who stayed. Or how my “friends” planned a whole Hawaii trip for Spring Break in front of me with no invite.
Therapy didn’t fix everything overnight. It wasn’t some cinematic breakthrough. It was uncomfortable and subtle as I was crying in a quiet office and then walking back into the world like nothing happened. My therapist told me something that will forever stick with me, “Would you want to be supported by people who you know support people you don’t morally align with?”
This planned something in me and somehow, the idea that maybe my presence was enough on its own. Maybe, I didn’t have to earn love by being perfect. I started doing the activities that were always mentioned if you want to improve your mental health and emotions, like journaling.
Part of me didn’t want to burden anyone with my emotions. I always felt like my feelings were too layered and complex for people to fully grasp. Explaining myself felt incredibly exhausting, so I started writing. I filled pages with thoughts I never said out loud, dissected my fears, and questioned my patterns. Most importantly, I wrote letters I would never send.
Over time, journaling became less about venting and more about understanding myself. When I read my own words back, I realized I wasn’t too dramatic or “too much.” It was a clear effort that I was just trying and cared deeply about. My emotions were depth and that is something I’m learning to appreciate.
Then there were the walks with my headphones in, volume all the way up, as the last 3 minutes of Let It Happen by Tame Impala is playing in my ears.
I would walk without a destination, whether it’s around campus, through random streets, past trees, parks, open skies. The wind would hit my face and for a moment, everything in my head would quiet down. Sometimes I’d catch myself smiling, and this was not because someone texted me or because I felt validated. It was literally because I was just there…. EXISTING! BREATHING! FEELING MUSIC MOVE THROUGH ME!
This type of happiness felt very different, and I am not saying this performatively. I started to realize how internally happy I was because this is my own happiness. Everything in my life clicked.
I started to realize that this kind of love cannot be replicated. This love is proof that I am fully present with myself, no one else lives in my head. No one else has my exact combination of thoughts, human, memories, dreams, or really anything. I am the only person who entirely understands myself and that realization felt empowering instead of isolating, which was odd at first since it is not a feeling I have felt before.
Slowly, my behavior changed. I stopped waiting at the bus stop for my roommate just so I wouldn't have to walk to a terrible apartment alone (sorry not sorry hype house 1122). I used to be socially scared of being alone in public, convinced that everyone was watching and judging me. One day, I just sat on a bench on campus by myself. Guess what happened? Nothing. No one cared, and the world kept spinning (Lol have you seen those TikTok comments that are like “oh okay cuz jack and jill went up the hill?”).
I started going to the grocery store alone instead of waiting for someone to go with me. I used to worry people would judge that I put in my cart as if it said something about me. Now, I realized how freeing it is to shop for myself without explanation and to nourish myself without shame.
Now it’s 2026. As I am writing this, I am in the city of San Rafael spending my Valentine’s Day afternoon exploring more of the Bay Area and NorCal… alone, but not lonely. Part of that is because I have a Valentine’s this year, and we are getting dinner together (YIPPEE!). With that, I still continue to prioritize myself and my self-love journey. A year ago, this day might have triggered comparison and inadequacy. Today, it feels like a love letter to myself.
After this, I am heading to Mill Valley to explore a library I encountered on TikTok. I am romanticizing my own life, I’m wandering through shelves of books, and I am letting curiosity guide me instead of fear.
The key takeaway? Self-love is not always loud or glamorous. People vision self-love as just affirmations or aesthetic mornings doing yoga. Self-love is simply choosing not to abandon yourself. You have the complete control of how you decipher that.
It may be sitting with your anxiety instead of running from it. It could be admitting you are hurt without shaming yourself for it. Maybe, it’s going to places alone even when your stomach tightens or realizing that solitude can feel sacred instead of scary. That is all self-love.
I used to think love was something I had to secure externally, whether it was through friendships, through being chosen, through constant validation, and most notably, through a relationship. Now I know that the most stable love I’ve found is the one that doesn’t leave when other people do… my own (Thank U, Next!)
I love myself. It may not be perfect or fully-healed, but in a grounded, intentional way, I know that I am introspective, and I feel deeply. I love that my music taste keeps expanding. I love my Mexican heritage. I love the way I can talk about the history of the John Doe Roblox lore for hours or talk about niche anime. I love that I am all over the place with my own studies. I love how I can be “too much!” Most importantly, I love that I can spend a lot of my Valentine’s Day wandering through a new city alone and feel content.
I am happy that I am the person I am. For the first time, that feels like that’s all Leandro needs.
I love you, Leandro!