Valentine, you are the love of your life

10 Ways to get busy loving you

If you want to find the love of your life, look in the mirror.

It really is that simple. You, dear one, truly are the love of your life. I’ve been telling myself that almost daily. Some days I believe it. You are the only one who will be with you for the long haul, until the day you die, so make it one hell of a journey.

I’m on a quest to love me better that he did, better than anyone else can.

As Valentine’s Day approaches, it’s painful bumping into pieces of the husband who left, especially all those beautiful Valentine’s Day cards that promised “forever love…My heart is yours…You will always be the one.”

Ouch.

For years, I wanted someone to make me feel special enough to fill the endless hole inside of me, as if a card, bouquet of roses or box of chocolates could do that. I longed to be loved.

That childhood hole felt like a bottomless pit until I realized — after lots of counseling — no one else could fill it, just me. I love singing along with Mylie Cyrus, “I can love me better than you can.”

Lately I’ve been jamming to country music to lift my spirits and slam down my cowboy boots at the Dusty Armadillo, the boots I bought years ago in Carefree, Arizona.

I keep reminding myself, Regina, You’re the one you will be with for the rest of your life. Make every day a joy.

My new book, Little Detours and Spiritual Adventures, offers ways to celebrate yourself every day of the year. I’m practicing taking my own advice:

Buy yourself something romantic. No more waiting for a card or flowers or chocolates. Buy yourself a ring. Some women buy themselves a diamond to wear on their right hand. You can make a vow to love you all the days of your life regardless of whether anyone shows up to love you that long. At least treat yourself to a candlelit dinner every now and then. I just bought myself a candle and a sparkly heart card that says, “I love you with all my heart.”

Treat your feet. Most people neglect them. Not me. I have a dozen white washcloths and use a fresh one every day to wash my feet with hot water and peppermint soap. Then I massage in lotion and a smidge of essential oil and thank them for holding me up all day.

Wear the good stuff. Just for you. The fancy lingerie you got last year for Valentine’s Day. The fuzzy socks you worry will turn bald from the wood floors. The tie your kids got you for Father’s Day. The silk blouse with the tag still on it that you fear you’ll stain. Don’t let the moths ruin it before you do.

Get grounded. Step out onto the Earth. Wiggle your toes in the grass. Drink in the scent of the Earth. Close your eyes and feel the breeze kiss your face. Of all the planets in the solar system, you got the best one of all. It has water. Plants. People. Remember that you are stardust. Feel yourself twinkle.

Perform random acts of kindness on you. Read yourself a poem. Treat yourself to a car wash. Light a candle. Buy yourself a bouquet. Yep, you’re worth the prettiest one. Be extra kind to you and everyone else today.

Leave yourself love notes. Instead of endless to-do lists, write out some love notes. Leave them in your lunch, in the car, next to your toothbrush, on the dashboard, by the washer and dryer, under your pillow.

Vow to love yourself. Every morning, I give thanks for the gift of life that I have and that I am. Some days I renew this vow and say it out loud to myself as I slip a silver ring on my own finger: Regina, I will love you all the days of my life, starting today.

Reclaim your name. No more calling yourself dumb or stupid or fat. You are not a jerk. You are not ugly. You are not a mistake. You might make mistakes, but you aren’t a mistake. You are not a disappointment. You may disappoint people now and then, but that is not your identity. You are a child of the Universe. Say your full name. Whisper it to yourself right now, in the kindest way. Lovely, isn’t it?

Love this body. Not the body you should have. Not the one everyone else has or thinks you should have. Love the one you got. The one with the scars and stretch marks and moles and pimples and dimples and wrinkles and age spots and those 10, 20 or 30 extra pounds. Hug it. Thank it. Inhabit it.

Listen to your own heart. Not to change your cardio routine or to record your standing heart rate. Just to hear the beating of that precious muscle pulsing life through you to every single cell. You -- yes you -- are a miracle.

As is.