B.Løvetann

The past few months have made me look at life in a completely different way.

I’ve spent a lot of time reflecting on choices, grief, joy—and perhaps most of all, on reactions. Trauma responses. Consequences.
It’s both painful and beautiful at the same time.
Because seeing yourself from the outside can be brutal. Sometimes, it simply feels awful.
But it’s also incredibly educational.
And perhaps even fascinating.

The most interesting part is when you finally begin to understand yourself.
When the pieces start falling into place.
When you begin to see the connection between your past and the person you’ve become.

If there’s one thing I both love and struggle with about myself, it’s my ability to empathize and understand others.
I genuinely want people to be happy.
I want them to experience joy.
Gratitude.
Safety.
And above all, love.

Over the years, I’ve realized that people rarely act without a reason.
We all carry a story.
Some stories are visible.
Others are hidden deep beneath the surface.
That doesn’t mean every action can be justified.
But many actions can be understood.
And there’s an important difference between understanding and accepting.

I also believe that love is something we learn.
To truly give love, we must first have experienced it ourselves.
And perhaps even more importantly—we have to learn how to receive it.

Once we do, it becomes easier to give love in return.
Not only to others.
But to ourselves as well.
And I think that may be one of the hardest lessons any of us will ever learn.
To genuinely love ourselves.
Not because we’re perfect.
But because we’re human.
With strengths and weaknesses.
With mistakes and opportunities to grow.

I believe that self-love is the foundation of every other kind of love we bring into the world.

The Bible expresses it beautifully:
«Love your neighbor as yourself.» (Mark 12:31)

Perhaps there’s a deeper message hidden in those words.

How can we truly love others if we’ve never learned to love ourselves?
It isn’t selfishness.
It’s responsibility.
It’s self-respect.
It’s maturity.

And maybe…
that’s where real love begins.