The Most Complicated Relationship I’ve Ever Had… Is With Me

Let’s talk about the messiest, most complicated, and brutally honest relationship we all have: the one with ourselves.

Now, this part of the “relationships” section isn’t as Instagrammable as the romantic posts or BFF shoutouts—but it’s the one that underpins every other connection we have. And if I’m being real (which, let’s face it, I usually am), it’s the one I’ve struggled with the most. I'm working on it—diligently, even—but there’s still a whole lot of room for growth and possibly a small bonfire of unresolved emotional paperwork.

We (as in people) are taught to think about everyone else first. Be kind. Be polite. Don’t hurt anyone’s feelings. “Share your toys, don’t be selfish, and for god’s sake, stop crying or I’ll give you something to cry about.” Sound familiar?

But when were we ever told to take ourselves out for coffee? Or to check in with ourselves before we’ve poured all our energy into someone else? Spoiler: we weren’t. Especially not my generation, where putting yourself first was basically the gateway drug to narcissism.

But here's the truth: the relationship you have with yourself? It's not selfish. It's survival. And healing. And maybe—eventually—thriving.

“I’m the only person who hears all of my thoughts… and I still choose to hang out with me. Growth!”

That hasn’t always been the case. For a long time, I could barely tolerate myself, let alone enjoy my own company. When my depression was loud, or my temper was on fire, or I was crying so hard I didn’t recognize my own voice—I wasn’t someone I wanted to spend time with. But, plot twist: I couldn’t get away from me. So, I stayed. And eventually, I started learning how to sit with myself instead of trying to run.

Now? I can be in a room alone and not feel like clawing at the walls. Hell, sometimes I laugh out loud at my own inner monologue and forget other humans exist. I’m still working on the whole "being nice to myself" thing—but it’s getting better. Some days, I even believe my own compliments.

“I used to talk to myself like Ace from Stand By Me. Now I sound more like the hippy art teacher who gives everyone an A just for trying.”

It didn’t happen overnight. For years, my inner voice was less “supportive mentor” and more “petty high school bully in a trench coat.” Even when my mom (rest her soul) told me I was smart, funny, beautiful, and wonderful, I brushed it off. “You’re my mom—you have to say that.” When she passed, the silence she left made the self-hate louder.

And when I lost Dakota… well, that was the moment I decided I was right all along: I was worthless. A failure at life, at parenting, at being. The guilt was unbearable. The self-hatred was automatic.

Eventually, something in me cracked—and instead of falling apart, I finally reached out for help. That’s when I started learning that caring about yourself isn’t arrogance. It’s necessary. I started asking myself why I felt the way I did. Not to shut it down, but to understand it. That one small shift changed everything.

I started seeing myself—not as a mess to be cleaned up—but as someone worth knowing.

Dating Yourself Is Underrated

Taking yourself for coffee. Going on solo walks. Reading in the sunshine while ignoring every notification on your phone like the badass introvert you are. Nothing says healing quite like sipping a mocha iced capp with your dog beside you and not a single social expectation in sight.

To be honest, I don’t date myself often enough. I could list a million excuses—mental health, physical exhaustion, or just good old-fashioned laziness. But when I do it, even if it’s small, it feels good. Sometimes I don’t need a five-star experience. Sometimes it’s just me, a park bench, and the rare joy of being left the hell alone.

Small Wins Matter

Every tiny step forward? That’s a win. Took the dog for a walk when you’d rather stay under a blanket? Win. Got out of bed without throwing your alarm across the room? Win. Finished a five-book series in two weeks and now feel slightly superior to everyone you know? Big win.

We’re conditioned to believe success needs to be loud and shiny. But healing is quiet. Growth is subtle. And sometimes, just staying upright counts as a damn accomplishment.

Forgiveness Isn’t Just for Other People

If you're carrying around guilt like it's a designer handbag, let it go. (And maybe get a new bag. One that doesn’t scream "emotional baggage, aisle five.") We’ve all done things we’re not proud of. What matters is that we try to do better moving forward.

Forgiveness isn’t about erasing the past. It’s about refusing to live there.

And no, someone else’s refusal to forgive you doesn’t mean you can’t forgive yourself. Your healing is your responsibility. Not theirs.

Final Thoughts: You’re Not Broken

You’re not a problem to fix.

You’re not a screw-up or a burden or someone who’s “too much.” You’re a layered, complex, beautifully strange person doing your best. The relationship you have with yourself will always be the foundation for everything else. And yeah, it’s going to be weird and uncomfortable sometimes. You might say the wrong thing to yourself. You might give yourself bad advice. You’ll roll your eyes at your own thoughts and sometimes feel like you’ve outgrown the person in the mirror.

But keep showing up. Keep learning. Keep laughing at your own jokes and taking up space in your own story.

Because when you truly begin to understand yourself—not “fix” yourself—you’ll realize you’ve been worthy all along.