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LXVI. How to Practice Self-Love
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LXVI. How to Practice Self-Love

We’ll analyze your inner voice to know how it operates, then we'll understand the burden and consequences of the unfair criticism we spew on ourselves & finally we’ll reconstruct this inner judge.

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Stoic Philosophy
Feb 25, 2025
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LXVI. How to Practice Self-Love
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The ‘Neuroscience-based Tools’, ‘Lead to Win’ & the Le Monde Élégant social skills sections are companions for The Stoic Manual to enhance your physical and psychological health, vitality, stress resilience, discipline, focus, motivation, and refine your people skills, relationships & leadership skills for a distinguished life—by Dr. Antonius Veritas.


Vincent van Gogh, The Starry Night, 1889

"If I'm worth anything later, I am worth something now. For wheat is wheat, even if people think it is grass in the beginning." — Vincent van Gogh

It happened again.

I had just wrapped up a project—one of my best, by any objective standard. It had taken weeks of meticulous effort, countless revisions, and a level of discipline that most people would have found excessive. Others praised it. They admired the precision, the care, the execution. Masterful, they said. Brilliant work! And yet, all I could see was the flaw—a tiny but important detail that no one else would ever notice but that loomed in my mind like a poorly placed apostrophe in a wedding invitation.

As soon as I hit send, a familiar, sickening wave set in. My jaw clenched. My stomach felt tight, as if I had swallowed a rock. My heartbeat quickened, not with excitement, but with dread. You should have caught that, dumbass. You could have done better. You’re not as competent as people think you are. The voice was grating, unwavering, and merciless.

That night, I lay in bed staring at the ceiling, replaying other mistakes in my mind as if they were evidence in a trial. It was a whole RICO case. A word choice I could have improved. A better way to frame an argument. A statistic I should have double-checked. I flipped onto my side, then my back, then my side again, like a rotisserie chicken. Sleep felt impossible. My body was exhausted, but my mind refused to let go. Why can’t you just be satisfied? The thought was barely a whisper under the storm of self-reproach.

I tried to reason with myself: Objectively, you did well. No one else is thinking about your mistake. No one cares. But logic didn’t change the feeling. The shame, the inadequacy, the frustration—it was all still there, clinging to me like an unshakable tax auditor.

It wasn’t just this one project. It was everything.

At work, I operated with an almost punishing level of discipline and attention to detail, surpassing expectations at every turn. And yet, any accomplishment felt like a narrow escape rather than a victory. If I received praise, it made me uneasy, like I had tricked people into thinking I was better than I actually was. If I received money or recognition, I felt embarrassed, as if I had taken something I hadn’t fully earned. Power, influence, attention—these things weren’t just uncomfortable; they felt undeserved. I knew, logically, that I had worked for them, but emotionally, I felt like a fraud.

The worst part was that I knew this wasn’t how other people lived. I watched colleagues—people whose work was often objectively sloppier than mine—move through life with ease. They took credit for their successes without hesitation. They made mistakes and brushed them off as learning experiences. They didn’t spiral over small errors. I envied them, and I kind of resented them, but mostly, I wondered what was wrong with me.

Why does nothing ever feel good enough?

The worst kind of punishment is the kind no one else can see. The kind you carry inside you, that gnaws at you in quiet moments, that whispers to you in the dark. And the scariest part? A part of me welcomed it. Because self flagellation was familiar. And something about that felt safe.

It took me years to realize that my real problem wasn’t just the self-criticism over what I had done—it was the way I had been treating myself unjustly from long before.

That lack of self-compassion and self-love is the theme of today’s newsletter. And here’s what I wish I had understood and practiced sooner.


Join 23,800 other Stoics


Previously,

The Art of Diplomacy

The Art of Diplomacy

Stoic Philosophy
·
Feb 21
Read full story

How to Practice Self-Love

“Not to feel exasperated, or defeated, or despondent because your days aren't packed with wise and moral actions. But to get back up when you fail, to celebrate behaving like a human - however imperfectly - and fully embrace the pursuit that you've embarked on.”―Marcus Aurelius

In this essay, we will first analyze your inner voice—how it operates and where it is biased. Then, we’ll examine the burden of the harsh and unfair criticism we often place on ourselves. Finally, we’ll reconstruct this inner judge using psychotherapy techniques to cultivate more self-love, self-respect, psychological well-being, and ultimately, happiness.

Let’s get into it.

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