Radical Self-Love in My 40s: What Changes, What Matters, and What I Wish I Knew Sooner
A love story that begins
I used to think self-love was something you achieved. Something you worked toward like a checklist—
Set boundaries. ☑️
Take the bubble bath. ☑️
Say the affirmations. ☑️
But now, at 40, I see self-love differently. It isn’t something I do. It’s something I become.
This past month, grief cracked me open in ways I wasn’t expecting. Losing my father has been a tender, aching reminder that life is always moving—always offering us moments to love deeper, to soften more, to trust the full arc of who we are becoming.
And through it all, I keep coming back to this question:
What does it mean to live as love?
Not just to give it. Not just to receive it.
But to be it. To embody it. To move through the world as love itself.
Because if grief has taught me anything, it’s that love doesn’t disappear. It transforms.
And maybe self-love isn’t about fixing or improving or striving.
Maybe it’s about allowing.
Allowing yourself to be loved by life.
Allowing yourself to meet the version of you that’s waiting on the other side of self-doubt.
Allowing yourself to step into love—not as a destination, but as a practice.
What I am unlearning about self-love in my 40s
Self-love is not just a solo practice—it’s a relationship
In my 30s, I thought self-love meant being independent, doing it all alone, proving to myself that I didn’t need anyone.
I spent years learning how to meet my own needs—emotionally, physically, spiritually. I was hyper-aware of making sure I wasn’t too dependent on others. It felt safer that way.
But in my 40s, I’ve learned that self-love flourishes in connection—with the right people, with a community, with the ones who mirror our wholeness back to us.
I recently had a moment where I broke down crying in the arms of my partner. Not because anything was wrong, but because I finally let myself be held. I realized how much I had spent years proving my strength when what I really needed was softness.
Something he constantly reminds me is “Softness can be strength.” I practice this every time I want to share something vulnerable especially in the moments that the story of “being too much” begins to cycle in my mind.
We are not meant to love ourselves in isolation. We are meant to love through each other, to let ourselves be seen, to receive.
💭 Reflection: Where are you holding self-love at arm’s length because you’re afraid of being seen?
Pleasure Is Not a Reward—It’s a Birthright
In my 30s, I treated pleasure like a privilege—something I had to earn.
I would work myself into exhaustion and then let myself rest.
I would self-sacrifice then allow myself to receive.
I remember a time when I sat in the sauna at Worthy self-care studio here in Berkeley, CA on a little self-care afternoon retreat I had gifted myself—except I couldn’t enjoy it. I felt guilty. I felt like I had to “deserve” it. I was physically there, but emotionally still in the loop of over-responsibility.
But now? I refuse to put love on layaway.
Pleasure is not a luxury. It is the most natural expression of love we can give ourselves. It is the full-body exhale. It is the long, slow breath that reminds you—you are here. You are alive.
Now, I make pleasure a daily practice, not a conditional reward.
I drink my tea slowly allowing the warmth to travel down my throat, pooling into my belly. I savor the richness, feeling the way it soothes and grounds me from the inside out.
I intentionally smell the flowers I buy for the home, letting their fragrance trickle down my nose, into my lungs, into my being. I let their beauty stop me in my tracks—I let myself receive.
I turn my face toward the sun and let it kiss my skin, soaking up the warm embrace of Father Sun, letting the heat seep into my bones. The warmth reminds me—I am loved, I am held, I belong.
I listen to music with my whole body. I let the rhythm take me, let the bass settle in my chest, let the lyrics wrap around me like a whispered truth. I move—not to perform, not to please, but to feel.
I taste my food, really taste it. The sweet burst of a strawberry on my tongue, the richness of dark chocolate melting slowly, the hint of spice that lingers long after the bite. I let myself delight in it, knowing my pleasure is a portal to presence.
I breathe deeply. Not just as an afterthought, but as a devotion. Feeling the rise and fall of my chest, the way my breath expands and softens me all at once.
And in all of this, I let myself be in my body, not just thinking about it. Not rushing through it. Not treating pleasure as something I have to deserve.
Because pleasure is not something we earn—it is something we inhabit.
💭 Activation: What if today, you let yourself fully experience one small pleasure? Not as a task. Not as a treat. But as an act of love.
Boundaries Are Not Just About Protection—They Are About Expansion
In my 30s, I thought boundaries were about keeping things out—a protective mechanism, a way to control what could and couldn’t reach me. I built walls instead of doors.
I remember being in relationships where I would shut down at the first sign of discomfort because I thought boundaries meant cutting people off. I thought loving myself meant eliminating anyone who triggered me.
Now, in my 40s, I see boundaries differently. They are not about exclusion—they are about expansion. They are an invitation to deeper love, deeper intimacy, and deeper self-trust.
And nowhere has this been more challenging—or more necessary—than in motherhood.
There is a natural instinct as a mother to over-give—to pour out every ounce of love, energy, and care into the people who depend on you.
To anticipate needs before they are spoken.
To absorb the emotions of everyone around you.
To carry the weight of love as responsibility.
I have done this. I have given until I was depleted, believing that my worth was measured in my capacity to meet everyone else’s needs.
Until one day, I realized I was modeling self-abandonment.
Recently, my 20-year-old daughter came to me in deep emotion, needing something from me that I used to believe I had to give. In my 30s, I would have immediately stepped in, absorbed her feelings as my own, and put my own exhaustion aside.
But that day, something in me paused.
I felt my own needs. I felt my own grief. And instead of self-sacrificing, I took a deep breath and said:
“I love you, and I can’t hold this for you right now. I need to take care of myself first.”
I braced for resistance. For guilt. For that old familiar pull to abandon myself in the name of love.
At first it was met with resistance, but within a few moments it was something that was understood.
And in that moment, I realized—I wasn’t just teaching them that I had boundaries. I was teaching them that they was allowed to have them too.
Our children don’t just learn self-love from what we give them. They learn it from watching how we love ourselves.
They learn it when they see us take up space.
They learn it when they see us say no.
They learn it when they see us honor our own energy—because then, they know they can do the same.
I did not lose love by setting a boundary. I deepened it.
Now, I see boundaries as a way to let the right things in.
Boundaries are not walls. They are invitations.
Invitations for deeper intimacy.
Invitations for aligned relationships.
Invitations for a life that loves you back.
This past year, I have deepened my relationships because of my boundaries, not in spite of them.
I no longer abandon myself to keep the peace.
I no longer betray my needs to make others comfortable.
And the people in my life now? They love me because of my boundaries—not despite them.
💭 Reflection: Where can you set a boundary today—not to protect yourself, but to expand into more love?
Living as Love: A Practice, Not a Destination
Self-love is not a finish line.
It is not something we will ever “master.”
It is a living, breathing practice.
And the deepest self-love is not just about what we do—it’s about who we allow ourselves to become.
So I want to invite you into a practice this week:
💌 Write a love note to yourself
Take five minutes today. Write a letter to the version of you who is waiting on the other side of self-doubt.
Tell her what she needs to hear.
Tell her she is worthy now. Not when she’s healed. Not when she’s better. Now.
Tell her she is already living as love.
And if you feel called, share one line from your letter in the comments below. Let’s make this a space where love lives.
Because love isn’t just something we seek.
It’s something we are.
If self-love has always felt like a struggle, Awakening and Rebirth Mentorship is open. It’s for the woman who is ready to trust herself, feel at home in her body, and reclaim pleasure as a way of being. If that’s you, let’s talk. Email me or DM me “AWAKEN” on Instagram.
💬 Tell me—what’s one way you are choosing to live as love today? Drop it in the comments.
