“Talk to me nice.”

I love that phrase. We often use it when we want to remind other people to be mindful of how they approach us, how they address us, and how they treat us. We want to be spoken to with kindness, respect, and consideration. We want people to recognize our worth and understand that their words have power. But lately, I’ve been thinking about how often we demand that kind of treatment from others while failing to extend that same courtesy to ourselves. We are quick to recognize when someone else has spoken to us in a way that is unkind, dismissive, or disrespectful, but we don’t always recognize when we are doing the very same thing to ourselves. And sometimes, the things we say to ourselves are far worse than anything we would tolerate from another person.

As a counselor, I have the privilege of sitting with people as they navigate the complexities of life, relationships, identity, and personal growth. I hear their stories, their disappointments, their fears, and their hopes for themselves. One of the things that continues to stand out to me is how incredibly harsh people can be when talking about themselves. I have clients, friends, and people I encounter in everyday life who say things about themselves that they would never dream of saying to someone they love. They describe themselves as stupid, unattractive, unworthy, failures, or somehow not enough. They criticize their bodies, question their abilities, minimize their accomplishments, and dismiss the very things that make them special. And what concerns me most is how naturally these words sometimes flow. There is often no hesitation, no recognition of the harshness, and no awareness that they are reinforcing a narrative that may have been shaping how they see themselves for years.

I often wonder when we learned to speak to ourselves this way. When did we become so comfortable rehearsing everything we believe is wrong with us while struggling to acknowledge what is beautiful, meaningful, and worthy about who we are? For some of us, those messages began early in life. Perhaps we grew up hearing criticism more often than encouragement, or we were compared to siblings, classmates, or other people who seemed to measure up in ways we believed we did not. Perhaps we experienced relationships where someone made us feel small, insignificant, or unworthy of love. For others, those messages have been reinforced by society’s expectations about beauty, body size, success, aging, relationships, and what it means to have a life that is considered valuable. Regardless of where those messages originated, the danger is that we can begin to internalize them until they no longer sound like someone else’s opinion. They begin to sound like our own truth.

And that is where the real damage can occur. When we rehearse negative narratives about ourselves long enough, they can become the beliefs through which we interpret our lives. We don’t simply have a disappointing experience; we tell ourselves that disappointment is evidence that we are failures. We don’t simply make a mistake; we convince ourselves that we are incapable of getting anything right. We don’t simply notice that our bodies have changed; we begin to believe that those changes somehow diminish our beauty or our worth. Over time, these thoughts can become so familiar that we stop questioning them. They become the background music of our lives, playing quietly but consistently, influencing how we show up in relationships, the opportunities we pursue, the risks we are willing to take, and even the love and care we believe we deserve.

Recently, I had an experience with a client that reminded me just how powerful it can be when we begin to change that narrative. This particular client has been doing some meaningful work around her self-esteem, confidence, and learning to choose herself in ways she had not always done in the past. During one of our conversations, I encouraged her to schedule a professional photoshoot. Not because she was celebrating a birthday, an anniversary, a promotion, or some other significant milestone, but simply because I wanted her to have an experience that was entirely about her. I wanted her to get dressed up, have her makeup done, stand in front of a camera, and allow herself to be seen and celebrated. I wanted her to experience what it felt like to be the focus of her own attention, without having to justify why she deserved that moment.

When she returned to our next session, she was absolutely glowing as she described the experience. She told me she had the best time and that the entire process had been affirming in ways she hadn’t anticipated. But what stood out to me most was something she shared about the moment she looked in the mirror after having her makeup done. She said that as she looked at herself, Eve’s song “Who’s That Girl?” started playing in her head. And in that moment, she looked at her reflection and said to herself, “I’m that girl!” I smiled when she told me because I understood the significance of what had happened. It wasn’t simply that she liked her makeup or thought she looked beautiful, although there was certainly nothing wrong with either of those things. It was that she was seeing herself through a different lens. She was allowing herself to recognize and appreciate the woman looking back at her. She wasn’t focusing on what she believed was missing or what needed to be fixed. She was simply enjoying herself, appreciating herself, and embracing the beauty that was already hers.

There was something so life-giving about that experience, and I think there is an important lesson in it for all of us. Sometimes we need to create intentional opportunities to see ourselves differently. Sometimes we need to step outside of the routines, responsibilities, and expectations that consume so much of our lives and remember that we are worthy of being celebrated. We don’t have to wait for someone else to tell us we’re beautiful, worthy, accomplished, or deserving of attention. We can give ourselves permission to recognize those things. We can celebrate ourselves without an occasion, without an audience, and without needing to explain why. And sometimes, doing something as simple as scheduling a photoshoot, wearing an outfit that makes us feel good, taking ourselves somewhere special, or looking in the mirror with appreciation rather than criticism can become a meaningful act of self-affirmation.

Now, I want to be clear that I’m not talking about toxic positivity. I’m not suggesting that we ignore the difficult parts of life, pretend that everything is wonderful, or walk around repeating affirmations that we don’t believe while refusing to acknowledge our struggles. Life is complicated, and so are we. We have insecurities, disappointments, regrets, and areas where we need to grow. There are days when we don’t feel particularly confident, when our bodies don’t look or feel the way we would like, or when we struggle to recognize anything positive about ourselves. Those experiences are real, and we don’t need to dismiss them. But there is a significant difference between acknowledging something we would like to change and using that thing as evidence that we are somehow less worthy of love, kindness, or respect.

I am talking about developing a healthy, compassionate, and truthful narrative about ourselves. One that allows us to see ourselves in our full glory, not because we are flawless, but because we recognize that our worth has never depended on perfection. I’m talking about looking in the mirror and seeing a stomach that’s a little pouchier than it used to be, a body that may be larger or smaller than we would prefer, hair that isn’t quite doing what we want it to do, or the wrinkles and changes that come with living and aging, and still being able to appreciate the beauty that is ours. I’m talking about recognizing that our bodies have carried us through life, through pregnancies and childbirth for some, through illness and recovery for others, through grief, stress, joy, celebration, and all the experiences that have shaped who we are. Our bodies tell stories, and not every part of those stories needs to be corrected, concealed, or apologized for.

I think about how much energy we spend identifying our perceived flaws. We notice the extra weight, the gray hair, the changes in our skin, the things we haven’t accomplished, and the ways our lives may not have unfolded according to the plans we made years ago. We compare ourselves to other people, sometimes without even realizing we are doing it, and use their lives as evidence of what we believe is missing from our own. And in the process, we overlook so much of what deserves our attention. We overlook our resilience, our wisdom, our growth, our creativity, our capacity to love, and the courage it has taken to navigate some incredibly difficult seasons. We overlook the fact that we are still here, still learning, still becoming, and still capable of experiencing joy and fulfillment. We spend so much time focusing on what we believe we lack that we sometimes fail to recognize the abundance that already exists within us.

I also think this conversation is particularly important for women, especially those of us who have spent much of our lives caring for others. So many women have been socialized to be the nurturers, the supporters, the caregivers, the fixers, and the people who hold everything together. We have learned to show up for our children, our partners, our families, our friends, our churches, our workplaces, and our communities. We know how to encourage someone else, how to remind them of their strengths, and how to help them recognize their worth when life has caused them to question it. Yet, when it comes to ourselves, we can struggle to extend that same compassion. We can feel guilty for making ourselves a priority, uncomfortable receiving compliments, and almost embarrassed to acknowledge that we look good, feel good, or are proud of something we have accomplished.

Somewhere along the way, we have to challenge the idea that celebrating ourselves is somehow selfish, arrogant, or inappropriate. There is nothing wrong with knowing that you are beautiful. There is nothing wrong with being proud of the woman you have become. There is nothing wrong with recognizing your accomplishments, appreciating your gifts, or acknowledging that you have worked hard to get where you are. Confidence does not require us to diminish anyone else, and humility does not require us to diminish ourselves. We can be grateful, grounded, compassionate people and still know that we bring something meaningful and valuable into the world.

And perhaps part of this work involves examining the voices we have allowed to shape our understanding of ourselves. Whose words are we still carrying? Whose criticisms have become our internal dialogue? Whose expectations are we still trying to meet? How many times have we allowed someone else’s inability to recognize our worth to become evidence that we have none? These are important questions because sometimes the negative things we say about ourselves aren’t even beliefs we developed independently. They are messages we absorbed from people, relationships, and experiences that may have never reflected the truth of who we were. And yet, we continue to repeat them as though they are facts.

One of the things I remind clients is that just because we think something doesn’t mean it is true. Our thoughts are influenced by our experiences, emotions, histories, and the meanings we have attached to what has happened in our lives. We can have a thought without accepting it as an accurate reflection of reality. We can acknowledge that we are feeling insecure without declaring ourselves inadequate. We can recognize that we made a poor decision without deciding that we are incapable of making good ones. We can acknowledge disappointment without allowing it to define our entire existence. And we can begin to question the narratives we have rehearsed for years, particularly when those narratives consistently leave us feeling diminished, defeated, or unworthy.

Changing those narratives takes intentionality. It requires us to pay attention to the words we use, especially in those moments when we are frustrated, disappointed, or feeling vulnerable. When we catch ourselves saying, “I’m so stupid,” perhaps we can remind ourselves that making a mistake doesn’t make us stupid. When we look in the mirror and immediately begin criticizing our bodies, perhaps we can pause long enough to acknowledge something we appreciate about ourselves. When we find ourselves believing that we are not enough, perhaps we can ask what standard we are using to determine our worth and whether that standard is even reasonable. This isn’t about pretending we feel confident every moment of every day. It’s about learning to respond to ourselves with the same compassion we would extend to someone we deeply love.

I often encourage people to think about the way they speak to their children, grandchildren, friends, or other loved ones. If someone you cared about came to you feeling discouraged about their appearance, their abilities, or their place in the world, would you reinforce every negative thing they believed about themselves? Would you tell them they were unattractive, incapable, unworthy, or destined to fail? Of course not. You would likely remind them of their strengths, help them see beyond the immediate disappointment, and encourage them to recognize that one experience or one perceived flaw does not define who they are. So why do we believe we deserve anything less? Why is it acceptable to speak to ourselves in ways that would break our hearts if we heard someone speaking that way to a person we love?

There is also something important about recognizing that speaking well of ourselves is not limited to the private conversations happening in our minds. It includes how we talk about ourselves in the presence of others. How often do we dismiss a compliment by immediately pointing out something we don’t like? Someone tells us we look beautiful, and we respond by talking about the weight we’ve gained. Someone compliments our work, and we minimize our contribution or suggest that it really wasn’t anything special. Someone acknowledges our accomplishments, and we quickly redirect the conversation because we feel uncomfortable receiving recognition. I wonder what would happen if we simply learned to say, “Thank you.” What if we allowed ourselves to receive kindness without challenging it? What if we stopped feeling obligated to diminish ourselves in order to make other people comfortable?

I believe there is a freedom that comes with learning to see ourselves more fully. Not simply as people who have made mistakes, experienced disappointments, or fallen short of expectations, but as whole human beings whose lives contain both beauty and struggle. We are not defined solely by the relationships that didn’t work, the opportunities we missed, the weight we gained, the choices we regret, or the seasons when we lost our way. Those experiences may be part of our stories, but they are not the entirety of who we are. We are also the people who kept going, who loved deeply, who learned difficult lessons, who started over, who found joy after sorrow, and who continue to discover new possibilities for our lives.

And for those of us who understand our lives through the lens of faith, I think there is something particularly meaningful about remembering that we are wonderfully made. Not wonderfully made only when we are younger, thinner, more successful, more accomplished, or more closely aligned with someone else’s definition of beauty. Wonderfully made in the fullness of who we are. Psalm 139:14 reminds us that we are fearfully and wonderfully made, and I wonder how differently we might treat ourselves if we truly embraced that understanding. What if we stopped treating our bodies and our lives as ongoing projects that must be perfected before they can be appreciated? What if we recognized that caring for ourselves, honoring ourselves, and speaking kindly to ourselves can also be expressions of gratitude for the lives we have been given?

I keep thinking about my client’s experience and the joy she described when she looked in the mirror and recognized herself as “that girl.” I hope she holds on to that moment, not because every day will feel like a photoshoot or because confidence will always come easily, but because she now has another experience to draw upon when the old narratives try to return. She has a memory of seeing herself with joy, appreciation, and pride. She has evidence that she can experience herself differently. And I hope that moment becomes part of a larger story she continues to tell herself about who she is and who she is becoming.

I want that for all of us. I want us to have moments when we look at ourselves and genuinely appreciate what we see. I want us to be able to celebrate our lives without waiting for a special occasion or someone else’s permission. I want us to stop postponing joy until we reach a certain weight, accomplish another goal, find the right relationship, or become some imagined future version of ourselves. There will always be something we could change, something we could improve, or something we wish had happened differently. But if we wait until everything is exactly as we want it to be before we allow ourselves to feel worthy, beautiful, and fulfilled, we may spend far too much of our lives waiting.

So perhaps it’s time to be more intentional about the conversations we have with ourselves. Perhaps it’s time to challenge the negative tropes that have taken up residence in our minds and replace them with narratives that are more compassionate, more balanced, and more reflective of the fullness of who we are. Perhaps it’s time to stop apologizing for our bodies, minimizing our accomplishments, and questioning whether we deserve to take up space. Perhaps it’s time to look at ourselves with the same tenderness, patience, and generosity that we so freely extend to others.

And maybe, just maybe, it’s time to schedule that photoshoot. Put on that outfit. Wear the lipstick. Take the trip. Get in the picture. Celebrate the birthday. Dance to the music. Do something that reminds you that you are worthy of attention, affection, and joy, even when there is no particular occasion to celebrate. Not because any of those things will magically resolve the insecurities or challenges we carry, but because sometimes we need experiences that remind us there is more to our story than the things we have spent so much time criticizing.

At the end of the day, the relationship we have with ourselves is one of the most enduring relationships we will ever experience. We carry our thoughts, our beliefs, and our internal conversations with us into every season of life. We hear ourselves when no one else is speaking. We listen to the stories we tell ourselves when the world is quiet. And those stories matter. They influence how we see ourselves, how we allow others to treat us, and what we believe is possible for our lives.

So I want to leave you with this thought: Be mindful of how you speak to yourself, because you are always listening.You deserve words that encourage growth rather than reinforce shame. You deserve compassion when you make mistakes, grace when you fall short, and recognition for the many ways you continue to show up in this world. You deserve to look in the mirror and see more than your perceived flaws. You deserve to recognize the beauty, strength, wisdom, and worth that have always been yours, even during the seasons when you struggled to see them.

And the next time you catch yourself standing in front of the mirror, preparing to critique everything you believe is wrong with you, I hope you’ll pause. I hope you’ll look a little longer, a little deeper, and a little more lovingly. I hope you’ll see the person who has survived, grown, learned, loved, and continued to become. And perhaps, like my client, you’ll hear a little Eve playing in your head, smile at your reflection, and remind yourself, “I’m that girl!”

Because you are. And you don’t have to be perfect to know it.

Talk to me nice. But more importantly, talk to yourself nice. You deserve to hear good things about yourself, especially from you.