P.S. I Love Me

Some days, loving yourself feels natural. Other days, it feels like work.

Some days you wake up grounded and confident, and other days you’re doing your best just to be kind to yourself while moving through the world. If that sounds familiar, you’re not broken—you’re human. I’m right there with you.

We talk a lot about self-love, but the truth is, it isn’t a personality trait. It’s a practice. And like any practice, some days feel easier than others. That’s something I’ve had to remind myself of over and over again—not as a therapist, not as a business owner, but as a person living a full, messy, beautiful life. Psychology has been saying for decades that people don’t grow through self-criticism; they grow when there’s a sense of ease and acceptance.

Carl Rogers called this unconditional positive regard—the idea that people thrive when they feel accepted as they are, not as a project in progress. When that acceptance exists, change becomes possible. Without it, the nervous system stays guarded, and growth feels like pressure instead of possibility.

Abraham Maslow echoed this in his work on human motivation. His hierarchy reminds us that before we can step into creativity, confidence, or purpose, we need to feel safe, connected, and worthy of belonging. Self-love isn’t the reward at the end of the journey—it’s part of the foundation.

Modern research continues to support this. Studies on self-compassion show that people who treat themselves with kindness are more resilient, more emotionally regulated, and better able to navigate hard moments. Not because they ignore reality, but because they meet it without attacking themselves. Research on expressive writing shows that putting thoughts and emotions into words helps organize experience and calm the nervous system. And research on future-self connection shows that when we feel connected to who we’re becoming, we make choices today that are more aligned and less reactive.

That’s where Remind Wellness was born—from the understanding that we all need spaces where we can exhale. Spaces where we don’t have to perform, prove or fix ourselves. Spaces that quietly say, yes, you belong here.

Everything we offer—workshops, classes, gatherings, moments of pause—is rooted in that same intention: creating nervous system regulation, making connection, and reminding people (including ourselves) that they are already enough. Not someday. Not after they’ve figured it all out. Now.

The PS I Love Me letters feel especially powerful because they’re simple. No big promises. No pressure to be positive. Just a moment to sit with yourself and say, I see you. To write encouragement instead of criticism. To offer yourself the same compassion you give so freely to others.

I’ve written one too. And I can tell you, it hit differently than I expected. Because when you slow down long enough to speak to yourself with honesty and care, something softens. Something settles. You remember that you’re on your own side.

We chose to mail these letters back a year later because life moves fast. Because we forget. Because sometimes the words we need most don’t come from someone else—they come from a version of us who was paying attention.

Self-love really is the best love. Not because it’s perfect or constant, but because it’s the one relationship that stays with us forever. And when it feels hard, that’s not failure—that’s an invitation to lean into support, community, and practices that help us feel safe again.

You don’t have to do this alone. None of us do.

This is us, practicing together.