A love letter to myself

There have been many moments in my life when I’ve felt like a failure. From the exercise plans that fizzle out after a few weeks to the personal development books I always promise myself I’ll read—Atomic Habits, The 5AM Club, Rebel Ideas—they all sit neatly on the shelf, waiting for that elusive "tomorrow" when I’ll finally get to them. The problem is, tomorrow never seems to come.

I’ve often convinced myself that these perceived failures—my inability to stick to plans and live up to the high standards I set—must come from a lack of discipline. "Good girls follow the rules," they say. Rules are there to guide us, to keep us on the right path, and if you follow them, you’re rewarded. Naturally, the opposite must also be true, right? If you break the rules, if you fail to toe the line, you suffer the consequences.

Discipline was central to my upbringing—the cornerstone of everything I was taught about success. It wasn’t just about hard work; it was about becoming the best version of myself. But along with that discipline came something else—guilt. Guilt that weighed heavily on me, and in many ways, became as much a part of my life as the drive to succeed.

For years, guilt and discipline have been intertwined for me, and I’ve felt the sting of both more often than I care to admit. I’ve chased that fleeting satisfaction of accomplishment, ticking off the last item on my to-do list, the so-called "eating the frog". (By the way, I’ve recently learnt we can all feel that sense of achievement by writing down things we’ve already done—though that rather defeats the point, doesn’t it?)

Yet, for all the lists and plans, for all the supposed discipline I’ve tried to muster, I’ve rarely felt the euphoria I imagined. Instead, I’ve watched from the side lines as others seem to move through life with effortless ease. People who "show up" every day, who get things done, who always seem to be winning. And me? I’ve been carrying guilt and self-doubt like a heavy rucksack on a long journey, something I couldn’t imagine setting down.

But recently, something shifted. Over the past eight weeks, as I’ve been navigating my career and reflecting on what’s next, I’ve had an important realisation. The truth is, the failure I’ve often felt isn’t about a lack of discipline. It isn’t about what I haven’t done or the promises I’ve broken to myself. It’s about something much deeper: a lack of love and kindness towards myself.

I’ve come to understand that the relationship I have with myself is the most important one in my life. Me, myself, and I—this trio is my constant, the longest relationship I'll ever have and a relationship I’ve neglected for far too long.

What I’ve discovered is that I respond to kindness and positivity far more than I do to punishment and consequence. But here’s the thing: when I stop to listen to my own inner voice, what I often hear isn’t kindness at all. It’s criticism, self-doubt, unkind words I wouldn’t dream of saying to someone I care about. Why should I speak to myself that way? Why should I let that voice dominate my thoughts?

So, I’m making a change. That old ship of negativity has finally sailed. The kind of discipline driven by guilt is no longer welcome in my life. Instead, I’m embracing something new—self-love and kindness. These will be my new guides.

I’m learning to prioritise me, to put my well-being at the centre of my life. It’s my gift to myself. Moving forward, I’ll celebrate my wins, no matter how small, and take time to care for myself in meaningful ways. Whether it’s through those energising walks I’ve come to love, the gym sessions that once felt like a chore, or reading those books that are finally helping me see life from a fresh perspective—yes, even Atomic Habits, Rebel Ideas, and The 5AM Club.

And this isn’t happening because I’ve suddenly found the discipline I thought I lacked. No, it’s happening because I’ve found something far more important: I’ve fallen in love with myself.

I will take care of me the way I take care of the people I love. Because I deserve that care. I deserve that love.

And this time, I won’t let go.