When my new friend Andre told me about his quest for meaningful work, he mentioned ideas like getting a job on an oil rig in the North Sea or working for the post office, but he didn’t seem enthused. I had similar concerns for myself, and since Andre and I shared a love of personal development, we took to meeting in a cafe to listen to each other, ask questions, and figure things out.

As Andre examined his motivations over time, he realized that the pressure he felt from society, family, and friends to work full-time and to declare a “respectable” occupation stressed him out. He could see his people-pleasing mechanism in operation, could feel himself trying to gain approval from the people around him, but that friction felt more and more wrong, like he’d divided into two selves: accommodating Andre and real Andre.

Andre’s habit of making decisions about his life in order to not be ostracized was perfectly normal. Childhood consists of many moments when we choose survival by compliance, because the other option is to be cast out on our own—or so our fearful brains assume.

To challenge those deep internal survival assumptions, Andre started doing small experiments. At a social gathering, when yet another friend of the family asked Andre if he’d found a job yet, Andre resisted the usual urge to list acceptable jobs he could apply for (but didn’t want to) and said instead, “No.” Just, “No.” A flush of distress ran through Andre’s body as he said the word. The feeling was familiar when in conversation with people who criticized him, but this time a little piece of Andre also felt stronger, a tiny bit.

So he started doing more experiments. For the first time, he told his girlfriend he didn’t want to go out to a party... but then he caved when she got upset and insisted. When Andre caved, he felt the difference in his body and didn’t like it. The next time he wanted to stay home and devour a good book rather than go out to a loud party, he did, even though his girlfriend got upset. Then Andre weathered a rough patch of noticing that whenever he dared to be himself in a way that went against his girlfriend’s expectations, she didn’t like him as much—and they broke up. Andre kept at it, kept doing small experiments, which led to small increments of strength and which reduced the division within himself. He dared to speak up for himself in more situations and in other relationships.

Years passed. Andre’s experiments got bigger. He asked his father to go to counseling with him, and his father said yes. Andre moved to a bigger city and sought a community in which he could learn about relationships based on what he wanted. He volunteered at meditation retreats, to learn and to find peace, because that felt good to his body and his mind. He experimented his way into an occupation that suited and challenged him in equal measure, and he became more and more successful and happy doing what he loved. Andre’s vision also extended. His goals got bigger. When he grew, his horizon moved. There is always be another dream, another tractor beam, a deeper dive, a closer connection, more to learn and to love.

As Andre’s experiments piled up, he got better at asking himself what he wanted, and at listening to his own answers. Bit by bit, he fell in love with himself.

The most important romance of our lives is with the person we see every day in the mirror.

If there is a magic elixir to pull us from the mire of whatever we consider bad in our lives and lift us to a better place, it’s a shift in the way we view ourselves. It’s the inside job at ground zero that turns the tide. Everything can be found by investing in our relationship with self, because that relationship is non-optional.

Since we can’t be alive without being in a relationship with ourselves, why not put everything we’ve got into making that relationship special and rewarding as a top priority?

One of the big reasons we don’t invest more in ourselves is because it can be so hard to overcome those early thought patterns we latched onto to survive as children and young adults. Another reason is that we tell ourselves our circumstances are too overwhelming for us to get a handle on. This is all understandable, for sure.

The thing is, turning one degree one time, making one little different decision, is enough to start a spark of strength. Open your mouth and say something a little more true. On a morning when your eyes are sad and your hair is electric and the only thing you feel about your life is I don’t know, dare to give yourself the gift of meeting your eyes in the mirror and offering a tiny, real smile.

Yes, yes. I know. That might sound silly and meaningless and far, far too little too late. And yet successful romances have begun with less. A romance story with two main characters does not follow a one-plus-one progression—one person meets their just-right other person, and love results. No. The happy ending occurs because the main characters learn to love themselves. Each main character goes through a process of figuring out how to understand and appreciate and accept themself more fully. That is the basis of real love with another person.

The life you want to live is intimately connected to the small decisions you make every day to love yourself and to be yourself, especially when you are alone. When it’s just you and you—in the room, in the car, on the bus, at the doctor’s office, on the job, out of work, leafing through books at the library, flushing the toilet, staring into the empty kitchen cabinet, checking the mail. Every single, little bit of you is eligible for more love in any given moment. Whatever place you’re starting in, pick a few seconds of your life and do a little experiment in which you remember that you are not only someone who wants and needs love, but someone who can give love. Start with yourself. Turn your beam inward. Then amp up the volume.

One private smile. One experiment. One little daring decision.

Then one more.

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Alice Archer is the author of the literary romance novels Everyday History and The Infinite Onion. You can subscribe to her newsletter to receive a free story, notification of new articles and books, and more. She also writes nonfiction for quiet people as author Grace Kerina.

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