The Neuroscience of Self-Love and Contentment: A Valentine’s Day Reflection

I’ve spent years studying the neuroscience of well-being—how oxytocin, dopamine, serotonin, and cognitive balance shape our sense of fulfillment. I’ve taught these concepts, written about them, and explored their implications in everything from education to human connection. But for a long time, I never really stopped to ask: How have these principles shaped my own life?

It wasn’t that I didn’t understand them. I knew how oxytocin fosters connection, how dopamine drives motivation, how serotonin stabilizes mood, and how our thought patterns reinforce our emotional states. But it wasn’t until I reflected on my own experiences—bankruptcy, eviction, car repossession, depression, homelessness—that I realized just how deeply these mechanisms had influenced me.

I never consciously thought, I need more oxytocin or I should regulate my dopamine while navigating those hardships. But looking back, I can see that the way I responded—both instinctively and intentionally—was shaped by my brain’s neurobiology. And I now understand that self-love isn’t just an abstract idea. It’s a biological foundation for resilience and contentment.

Oxytocin: Learning to Feel Safe in My Own Presence

Oxytocin is often called the "bonding hormone" because it fosters connection and trust. It’s released through hugs, meaningful conversations, and a sense of belonging. But what happens when the external sources of connection disappear?

When I lost my home and car, I lost more than just physical stability. I lost the familiarity and routine that made me feel grounded. There were moments when I felt completely disconnected, as if I were floating through life without an anchor. But even then, oxytocin was quietly at work in ways I hadn’t fully appreciated before.

It was there in my dog—the simple act of petting him, knowing that even in uncertainty, we had each other. It was there in small interactions with strangers—brief conversations, a kind word, a moment of recognition that reminded me I wasn’t invisible. It was there in the way I learned to sit with myself, to find comfort in my own presence rather than seeking external validation.

I had always understood oxytocin in a theoretical sense. But I hadn’t fully realized how much it carried me through those moments when I needed it most.

Dopamine: Finding Motivation Without External Markers of Success

Dopamine is often tied to achievement—reaching goals, receiving recognition, accomplishing milestones. And for much of my life, that’s how I saw it too. But what happens when the traditional markers of success are stripped away?

When I lost everything that society equates with stability, I had to rethink what fulfillment meant. The dopamine I used to get from professional achievements and financial success wasn’t there in the same way. But instead of chasing external rewards, I started finding dopamine in smaller, more meaningful ways.

I immersed myself in deep learning—not for validation, but because I genuinely loved it. I found joy in problem-solving, in understanding complex ideas, in refining my thinking. I realized dopamine didn’t have to come from external achievements—it could come from curiosity, engagement, and the simple act of learning something new.

I had always known this conceptually, but experiencing it firsthand made me see how much self-sourced dopamine had kept me going.

Serotonin: Stability in the Midst of Uncertainty

Serotonin is what allows us to feel balanced and emotionally stable. It’s not about quick rewards—it’s about a deep, steady sense of well-being. But when life feels chaotic, stability can feel impossible.

When I was going through financial collapse and personal setbacks, my nervous system was constantly in fight-or-flight mode. Every day felt like another challenge to overcome, another unknown to navigate. But I see now that serotonin was at play in the ways I found small moments of peace.

I leaned into grounding habits—finding moments of quiet, reflecting deeply, and staying engaged with the world. I made an effort to step outside in the sun, to move my body, to stay engaged with the world around me. I practiced gratitude—not in a forced, superficial way, but in recognizing what I still had: my mind, my resilience, my ability to create meaning even in uncertainty.

I hadn’t thought about it as "regulating serotonin" at the time. But looking back, I realize that these practices helped me sustain stability even when my external world was unstable.

Cognitive Balance: Reframing My Narrative

Beyond neurochemicals, contentment is shaped by how we think. The brain’s default mode network (DMN)—the system responsible for self-reflection—can either spiral into destructive rumination or help us process challenges constructively.

When I lost so much, my brain wanted to tell a familiar story: You’ve failed. You’re starting over. You should be ashamed. But I had to challenge that narrative. Instead of seeing it as a downfall, I started seeing it as a reset, a new chapter, an opportunity to strip away what wasn’t serving me.

I wasn’t broken—I was rebuilding. I wasn’t lost—I was unlearning. I wasn’t unworthy—I was redefining worth on my own terms.

This wasn’t just about positive thinking—it was about cognitive flexibility, the ability to shift perspectives, to break free from rigid thought patterns. I had always understood this concept, but living through it made me realize how essential it was for resilience.

Self-Love as a Biological Foundation for Contentment

For a long time, I thought of self-love as something abstract—something people talked about but didn’t necessarily need to survive. Now, I see it differently. I see self-love as a neurobiological shift, a process of aligning our minds and bodies in ways that sustain us.

Self-love, for me, was:

• Choosing to be kind to myself when my instincts told me I wasn’t enough.
• Finding ways to generate dopamine that weren’t dependent on external validation.
• Creating serotonin stability through routines, reflection, and perspective shifts.
• Using oxytocin not just in relationships, but in the way I built a sense of safety within myself.

I had always known these principles. But looking back, I realize how deeply they shaped my ability to navigate hardship. I didn’t set out to regulate my neurobiology—it happened through survival, through instinct, through the necessity of finding contentment even in uncertainty.

A Valentine’s Day Celebration of Self-Love

Valentine’s Day often centers on external love, but for me, it means something more. It’s a day to honor the love that carried me through—the love that turned survival into resilience and gave me the strength to rebuild when everything else fell away.

Then again, I don’t wait for a single day to celebrate it—I embrace it every day of the year. :)