{february} beyond pink hearts: what self-love really asks of us
February brings images of pink hearts and chubby little cupids with arrows. It is a month that punctuate the monotony and grayness of winter which, at this point, feels never-ending. February is the month where we warm our hearts from the bitterness of winter with celebrations of love.
Over the past decade in particular, countless of self-help books have lined the shelves with guidances on how to love oneself.
To love ourself is not only to love the shiny, positive, and joyous parts of us. To truly love ourself, we don’t love in spite of our past, stories, traumas, and cracks in our souls. When we truly love ourself, we love the full us, and especially because of our past, stories, traumas, and cracks.
At ĀN Yoga, we celebrate all forms of love, but we believe that the most important love of all, is the love of ourself. This month, we explore the quiet and often uncomfortable terrain of self-love — not the glossy parts, but the tender, hidden ones.
Meeting the ‘Ugly’ Parts
In my mid-20s during my yoga therapy training, I was cracked wide open, revealing the darkness, the rage, and bruised parts of myself. It is the part of myself that I hid so deep that even I couldn’t see. I hid that part from myself and from others to keep up the imagery of the “perfect” daughter, the good girl, the responsible one.
When I was cracked open, I didn’t know what to do with all these memories and emotions that were arising. I detested them, so much so that I screamed through my hysterical tears one night, in the car with my husband: “I’m so ugly! I’m so ugly! I’m so ugly!”
The ugliness that dwelled under my rage and grief. The ugliness that reacted to triggers and spewed out hurtful words and actions towards others.
I walked for months with this weight and the fear that others would see through me and into this ugliness. One day, on a sunny, breezy San Francisco afternoon, sitting in one of my first ever therapy sessions, I learned to see this ugliness as my lonely, grieving, and hurt inner child.
And when that image of a younger me came up, sitting alone in a dark corner of a dark room, huddled and curled up in silent tears, I cried for her.
I cried for that younger version of me who never received the affection and care she longed for, the nurture she was always too afraid to ask for. I cried for the version of me who so badly wanted to openly share her emotions, but never found a safe place to do so. I cried for that part of me who felt like she had to grow up fast, because she was taught that being responsible, studious, and independent were worthier traits over being playful, creative, and authentic.
As I saw myself for all that I was through the mirror that reflected the past and revealed the threads of all the stories that connected together to make who I am today, I started to feel a sudden softness.
This softness was new, because while others all knew me as calm and grounding and gentle, I have never really allowed myself to be soft on myself.
No, softness for myself is weakness.
And yet, softness for others is compassion.
In that moment, I realized I had never once in my life acknowledged the lost, lonely, little child within me. I had never once extended a tendril of compassion to her. That was over 8 years ago. Since then, I’ve been learning everyday to love all parts of myself, especially the dark, ugly, hidden parts that live with my hurt inner child.
Through yoga and meditation, I’ve been practicing softening the harder parts within me that were forged to be tough. As with the parts that are more resistant to the softening, it takes patience, compassion, and an unwavering (but not rigid and forceful) commitment to heal.
The healing wasn’t through the fast, dynamic Ashtanga vinyasa yoga that I had been practicing for 10 years at that point. The healing took place in the uncomfortable stillness of slow, restorative yoga, where I was gently encouraged to navigate physical and emotional releases throughout my body. The healing unraveled when I gave myself continuous and unperturbed space to sit in the quiet of my external realm, but of raging wars within my internal realms.
Most of all, the healing unfurled when I committed to simple, daily practices of nurturing and tending to myself in the ways I’d nurture and tend to a dear friend. I dedicated myself to ensuring that everyday, I give myself the gifts of space — to simply breathe, to simply ask myself what I want, rather than always meeting the demands of others.
What I learned is this:
self-love isn’t about bypassing the hurt — it is the willingness to turn toward it.
Not to fix it, at least not right away, but to acknowledge it.
Support from ĀN Yoga this month
This month’s practices inside AN Yoga are built around this idea of softening, even if just 1%, into the harder parts of yourself that you notice. Practices will specifically focus on softening the hardness we build around our hearts.
If you’re practicing on your own schedule, the Library offers short yin + restorative sessions that support emotional processing without force.
If you are craving:
✨ nervous-system-supportive yoga
✨ gentle practices that soften the heart
✨ space to feel without being rushed
✨ a community that understands exhaustion
…you are warmly welcome inside ĀN Yoga.
New members are invited to join with 50% off their first month using code HALFOFF at checkout.
Inside the membership, you’ll find:
✔ Weekly live classes designed to soothe the nervous system
✔ An on-demand Library with short, supportive practices you can return to anytime
✔ Monthly themes and contemplations that gently guide self-inquiry
✔ A community where tired women rest together, without guilt
This February, may you practice loving not just the polished parts of yourself, but the unseen ones — the ones who didn’t get the love they needed, but could receive from you now.