A Note from Love, not Logic

An experiment in self-compassion.

A few months ago, I came across a project from Elizabeth Gilbert called Letters from Love. She invites us to imagine Love as a wise, steady voice—a presence we can actually hear from. Not writing to ourselves, but letting Love write to us.

It’s a subtle shift, but a powerful one: you’re no longer the one trying to muster compassion. You’re the one being loved.

I thought, Sure, I’ll give it a try. I’m a writer, too! I expected it to feel a little hokey, maybe even awkward. But I didn’t expect the silence.

When I sat down and wrote, “Dear Me,” I couldn’t continue. I closed my eyes, trying to let something emerge, but part of me felt embarrassed—even resistant—to being spoken to kindly.

I’m ambitious, driven to squeeze a lot out of life. And like many of my clients—maybe like you—I grew up believing that self-criticism was the price of success. Maybe even the secret behind it.

And yet, in my work as a therapist, I’m constantly talking about self-compassion. I really believe in it—and I often share Dr. Kristin Neff’s research showing that it’s not soft or indulgent, but actually key to resilience, motivation, and well-being.

Self-compassion means treating yourself with the same kindness and understanding you'd offer a good friend—especially when you're struggling, feeling inadequate, or facing failure. It’s like offering yourself a warm blanket on a cold day, rather than just telling yourself to tough it out.

I offer these tools to others all the time. And still, I find it hard to take them in myself.

Back to my blank page, taunting me with its usual 'tough it out' energy… Eventually, I changed the opening from 'Dear Me' to 'My dear one,' stopped trying to sound strong, and let something softer speak up.

And then, to my surprise, the words just poured out.

But here’s the thing—they didn’t feel like me talking to me. They felt like Love itself pulled up a chair and said exactly what I needed to hear. If I’d tried to write this as a pep talk from myself to myself, it probably never would’ve happened.

So here it is—a note from Love, not logic. And yes, I’m hitting “send” with a plugged nose, a racing heart, and a little borrowed courage.

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Write yourself a letter from Love

My dear one,

I see you trying to manage expectations, dodging eye contact. I see the deepest wish in your heart: to be seen, cherished, loved for all the unique specialness that is you. I see your little face go blank, afraid to show the yearning to be delighted in by those around you. Your eyes drop as you wonder, “Do people really know me?” and “What do they even like about me?”

I’m here. I know you.

I know how deeply you care. How tender your heart is. I know that sometimes you’re tired, and sometimes lonely. When the weight of life presses down, I want you to remember: I am here.

Oh, sweetheart. Come here. Let me stroke your head. Let me comfort you when your soul aches, when sadness pulls you under. You are good, my love. I am so proud of the energy you bring to life. I see when you’re hurting. Please, come to me then. Let me show you how to be soft and not shut the world out.

I know you’re starting to wonder if half your life has already been lived. But, my love, you have always been—and will always be. The love you’ve offered this world is known. It matters.

You’ve done so well. You can rest.

Come, get into bed. Let me tuck you in. You are safe here. You are precious to me, little one.

Love,
Love

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If something inside you softened while reading this, I invite you to try writing your own Letter from Love. Just begin with whatever feels natural and see what comes through. You don’t have to feel loving—just let Love speak to you, gently, like a wise friend who already knows you’re enough.

Because you are.

💌 A Special Gift for You

As a thank you for being a part of this community, I’m offering you a Letters from Love journaling guide. This practice is designed to gently reconnect you with self-compassion and tenderness—something we all need, but often forget to give ourselves.

Take a moment to pause, breathe, and embrace the space to show yourself love. I hope these reflection prompts help you nurture a deeper sense of connection with yourself.

🌀 Guided Reflection: Letters from Love

This journaling guide is inspired by the Letters from Love practice.
Use these prompts to soften your inner voice, reconnect with self-compassion, and offer tenderness to the parts of you that most need care.

Find a quiet space, take a breath, and begin.

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✍️ Reflection Prompts

• What would Love say to me today?

• What part of me most needs comfort right now?

• How can I soften toward myself this week?

• When have I felt unseen or uncelebrated – and what would Love say to that part of me?

• What emotions have I been holding back? What would it feel like to let them flow safely?

• If I could look at myself with the eyes of someone who cherishes me, what would I see?

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🌿 A Gentle Reminder

You don’t have to write anything perfect.
Just begin. Start with “Dear Me,” or whatever feels natural.
Let your words come from a place of kindness and curiosity.