Learning to Like Myself Again (No Glow-Up Required)

When You Just Don’t Like Who You’ve Become

Have you ever woken up and just not liked yourself? Not how you look, but who you are underneath all the daily noise. I’ve had those mornings more times than I’d like to admit. One of the most painful seasons of my life happened about six months before I moved to Adelaide. I was still living in Brisbane, going out too often, drinking more than I should have, and eating in a way that numbed instead of nourished. It was a difficult, blurry chapter, full of choices I wish I hadn’t made, and all of it was tangled up in my grief over my dad’s cancer diagnosis.

During that time, I felt like I was losing myself in slow motion. Day by day, one small decision after another pulled me further away from the version of me I used to know and love. I wasn’t just making bad choices – I was disconnecting from myself. I looked in the mirror and saw someone I didn’t recognise. Not in the sense of weight or tired eyes, but in the way I carried myself, how I felt on the inside. I wasn’t proud of who I was becoming. Something had to shift, and eventually, I understood that the only thing I truly had control over was myself.

This isn’t the kind of story that ends with a big reveal or a dramatic transformation. I didn’t turn everything around overnight or glow-up into some idealised version of myself. What I did do was start learning how to like myself again, piece by piece, moment by moment. This is a gentle story, an honest one, and I hope it reminds you that you don’t have to become someone else to feel good in your skin. You just need to start being a little kinder to the version of you who’s already here.

Getting Honest with Myself

For a while, I kept pretending things were fine. I told myself I was just stressed, that things would settle down eventually, that I didn’t need to worry about how out of control everything felt. But one quiet afternoon, I sat down with a cup of green tea and asked myself honestly, “Is this who I want to be?” The answer came straight away, before I even finished the question. No. I didn’t like the way I was showing up in my own life. I didn’t like how I was treating myself. And pretending otherwise only kept me stuck.

Facing the truth wasn’t easy, but it wasn’t as scary as I thought it would be either. The realisation came with a strange sense of relief. I didn’t have to keep running from my own reflection. I could stop. I could breathe. And I could choose again. I wasn’t proud of all the ways I’d coped during that time, but I didn’t need to punish myself for it. I could acknowledge it, own it, and still offer myself a way forward.

Being honest didn’t mean being harsh. It meant looking at my life through a lens of clarity instead of avoidance. It meant acknowledging the parts of myself I had neglected, not with shame, but with curiosity. I started asking better questions, like, “What do I need right now?” and “How can I care for myself through this?” That shift alone – being honest with softness – started the slow journey back to myself.

Letting Go of the Quick Fix

When you’re feeling lost or unhappy with yourself, the world throws a hundred quick fixes your way. Lose weight, get a new hairstyle, buy new clothes, join a gym, wake up earlier, meditate more. I tried some of them. I followed people online who seemed to have it all figured out, thinking maybe if I did what they did, I’d feel better. But deep down, I didn’t want a makeover. I wanted to feel like myself again. And that wasn’t going to come from anything external.

What I needed was a sense of connection, not correction. I started turning inward and asking what actually made me feel good – not what looked good on paper or fit into someone else’s idea of self-improvement. I let go of the idea that I needed to be fixed or changed. I didn’t need a glow-up. I needed gentleness. I needed small, steady choices that helped me feel safe in my own body and mind.

Instead of trying to change everything at once, I chose to focus on things that felt like me. Making my bed in the morning. Playing soft music while I worked. Cooking myself a nice lunch even if no one else would see it. These weren’t big, flashy changes. But they mattered. They reminded me that I was capable of showing up for myself, without the pressure to transform into someone else.

Rebuilding My Inner Voice

I hadn’t realised just how cruel my inner voice had become. Every mistake was met with a harsh lecture. Every tired decision came with a side of guilt. It’s strange how we can become our own worst critics without even noticing. One day, I caught myself mid-thought, scolding myself for something minor, and I paused. Would I speak to someone I loved like that? Not a chance. So why was I speaking to myself that way?

Changing that voice didn’t happen overnight. I had to practise new ways of speaking to myself. When I slipped up or made a choice I wasn’t proud of, I tried to respond with curiosity. I asked myself what was really going on underneath. Was I lonely? Was I overwhelmed? Was I just tired? Those questions helped me shift from judgement to understanding. And from there, I could actually make changes that stuck.

The more I softened that voice, the more I started to trust myself again. I began to believe that I was someone worth listening to. Someone who could make mistakes and still be good. Someone who could change without needing to become perfect. That’s when real healing started. Not when I got everything right, but when I stopped tearing myself down for getting it wrong.

Creating a Life That Felt Like Mine

I used to think that building a better life meant doing more – being busier, pushing harder, achieving goals. But in that season, I realised I didn’t want a life that looked good from the outside. I wanted one that felt like mine. So I started paying attention to the small things that brought me comfort and peace. Not the things I thought I should do, but the ones that felt like coming home.

I lit candles in the evening, just because I liked the glow. I swapped endless scrolling for sitting in silence with a cup of tea. I let myself watch feel-good shows without guilt. I chose softness over structure. Slowly, I stopped chasing a life that would impress others and began curating one that actually nourished me. There was no roadmap, just a quiet promise to honour what felt real.

Over time, those tiny rituals became a rhythm. I wasn’t forcing anything. I was following the thread of what made me feel alive and whole. And in that space, I started to rediscover myself – not the version shaped by other people’s expectations, but the one that had been there all along, waiting patiently to be seen again.

Learning to Forgive Myself

Forgiveness was the part I resisted the most. I held onto guilt like it was something I deserved. I kept replaying my worst moments, picking them apart, wondering how I could’ve been so careless, so disconnected. But guilt only kept me stuck. It didn’t help me grow. What helped was finally deciding that I didn’t need to keep punishing myself to prove I cared.

I started thinking of forgiveness as a quiet release. Not a dramatic declaration, but a gentle letting go. I told myself, “You were trying to survive.” And that was true. I was doing my best in a really hard time. I didn’t always get it right, but I didn’t have to keep carrying those mistakes like they were proof of who I was. They were just moments. And I could let them go.

In forgiving myself, I found space to breathe again. I wasn’t defined by my lowest points. I was allowed to grow beyond them. That realisation didn’t excuse the past – it just stopped it from owning my future. I chose softness. I chose to begin again, not because I’d earned it, but because I finally believed I deserved it.

The Ongoing Practice of Liking Myself

Liking myself again hasn’t been a final destination. It’s something I choose, one small moment at a time. Some days, I feel strong and grounded. Other days, I slip into old doubts and tired habits. But I keep showing up. I keep making space for grace. Because this version of me, imperfect, healing, trying, is worthy of care.

There are still moments when I question myself, when I feel behind or not enough. But now I know how to respond with kindness instead of criticism. I know how to take a breath and come back to myself. I’ve learned that I don’t need to be completely fixed to be lovable. I just need to keep showing up, honestly and gently.

This practice, this path – it’s not about becoming someone new. It’s about remembering who I’ve always been. The one who keeps trying, who keeps learning, who still believes in her own softness. And that, to me, is more beautiful than any glow-up could ever be.

If You’re in That Place Right Now

If you’re reading this and feeling like you’ve lost yourself, please know that you’re not alone. So many of us go through seasons where we feel disconnected or unrecognisable. It doesn’t mean you’re broken. It just means something inside of you is asking to be heard, seen, and held. That’s not weakness. That’s wisdom.

You don’t need to fix everything today. You don’t need to become someone else. Just choose one small act of love. Drink a glass of water. Say something kind to yourself. Step into the sun for a few minutes. These little things are the start of the journey. They’re not meaningless – they’re everything.

Most of all, I want you to remember that liking yourself again is possible. Even if it feels far away right now. Even if you’ve forgotten what that feels like. It’s not about becoming a better version of you. It’s about remembering that the real you has always been worthy of love. No glow-up required.

You don’t need to become someone new to love yourself. You just need to remember who you are beneath the noise, and meet that person with kindness.

Ten Simple Steps to Start Liking Yourself Again

Make your bed each morning. It sounds small, but it creates a sense of care and order from the moment you wake up. It signals that you’re worth looking after, that your space matters, and that your day is worth beginning with intention.
Drink a glass of water before anything else. Rehydrating after sleep is one of the gentlest ways to wake your body up. It reminds you that nourishment doesn’t have to be complicated. It can be easy, simple, and kind.
Speak to yourself as you would to a dear friend. When that inner critic flares up, pause and ask: Would I say this to someone I love? If the answer is no, choose different words. Kinder ones. Softer ones.
Spend five minutes outdoors every day. Feel the breeze, notice the light, watch the trees. Even a short moment of connection with nature can calm your nervous system and ground you in the present.
Do something nice just for you. A cup of tea in your favourite mug, a calming playlist, fresh sheets on the bed. Tiny pleasures are often the most powerful reminders that you matter.
Say no when you mean no. It’s an act of self-respect to honour your limits. You don’t have to explain. You don’t have to feel guilty. Protecting your energy is a form of love.
Move your body with kindness. This isn’t about workouts or weight loss. It’s about reconnecting with yourself through gentle movement – walking, stretching, dancing in the kitchen.
Write down three things you did well each day. Not achievements. Just moments you chose care over chaos. You’ll be surprised how often you’ve already been showing up for yourself.
Unfollow anyone who makes you feel less than. Curate your digital world the way you do your physical one – with intention, kindness, and truth.
End your day with softness. Light a candle, read a few pages of a comforting book, or sit quietly for a minute. Let your day close with a sense of peace and presence, not pressure or shame.

If this resonated with you, I’d love to hear your thoughts. Have you ever had to find your way back to yourself? Share your story in the comments or send me a message – let’s remind each other we’re not alone in this. And if you think someone else might need these words today, feel free to pass them along.

Who Said Anything About a Crisis? – Chaos, Crumbs and Clarity

In today's episode of Chaos, Crumbs and Clarity, we're unpacking the midlife crisis myth. You know the one. The narrative that says women in their forties are supposed to be falling apart, panicking about relevance, desperately reinventing themselves before it's too late. We're told we should be burnt out, lonely with our cats, spiralling into some kind of existential breakdown that requires a retreat, a programme, or a very expensive rebrand.But here's what actually happens. You get comfortable. You get clear. You stop apologising for knowing what you like and who you are. The charm becomes fully operational. The gut instinct you've been overriding to be polite finally gets the microphone. And instead of a crisis, you get something much better. You get the glow up.Today we're talking about why the bar for female happiness is set so absurdly low, how your forties are actually when life gets good, and why no one needs to audit a woman who has spent decades deliberately curating her own existence. Let's get into it.For more visit BryJaimea.com or follow over on IG @bryjaimea

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