Part 1: My Journey to Self-Love

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Trigger Warning:

This post discusses abuse, sexual assault, and suicidal ideation. If you are in crisis, please reach out to the 988 Suicide & Crisis Lifeline (call or text 988 in the U.S.) or find international resources here. You are not alone.

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Why I’m Telling This Now

Lately, I’ve felt God — and maybe that inner rebel I’ve kept locked away — pushing me to finally speak truth to the hard, long road of moving from self-loathing to self-loving.

Because women see the me that exists now — the one smiling in photos, writing about health and wellness, showing up for others — and they don’t know how deep the cracks once ran.

They don’t know that for decades, I didn’t love myself. I didn’t even like myself.

And if this story reaches just one woman who thinks she’s too far gone to rebuild… then it’s worth laying my truth bare.

Where the Self-Loathing Started

I didn’t just wake up one day hating myself — it was layered in, brick by brick, over decades.

I grew up overweight and hating my body. My sperm donor (aka biological father) and step-monster didn’t just fail to protect me — they tore me down. I was told I was stupid, ugly, worthless. That no man would ever want me.

On my birthday as a pre-teen, my step-monster handed me a size 26W plus-size bathing suit as a gift. I was a size 13 in juniors. She made me hold it up in front of everyone — including my first crush — while she chirped about how “cute” it would look. That’s not a gift. That’s a public execution of self-worth.

From there came a chain reaction:

My grandpa’s death.

The depression that swallowed me whole.

Multiple suicide attempts.

The rape.

An abusive boyfriend.

And finally, a marriage that cut me off from friends & family.

By the time I moved to Truckee with him, food was my only friend. I ballooned to 355+ lbs (I know I went higher because my clothes got tighter — I just refused to step on a scale).

The Rock Bottoms

I thought my rock bottom was hitting that weight and hiring a fitness coach.

I was wrong.

Rock bottom was…

Being fired from my job for reasons I can’t share yet (pending litigation), and watching my marriage implode at the same time.

Calling the cops on my husband, knowing there was a real chance this was going to be a murder-suicide situation — something he had promised for years.

Hearing a victim’s advocate and a police sergeant call me a victim and realizing they were right. I had spent years putting on the strong, unshakable mask… but under it, I was living in fear.

Sitting alone in my house knowing he had my key fob, a restraining order he didn’t respect, and enough rage to kill me.

I didn’t leave until I genuinely didn’t care if I lived or died.

He told me it was my biblical duty to forgive and forget.

It wasn’t until my pastor told me I had every biblical right to leave that I even began making a plan. My plan was to tell him during marriage counseling that I wanted a divorce — in front of someone so I’d have protection if he snapped.

A sheriff friend later told me God must have intervened, because if I’d followed through with my plan, I probably wouldn’t have survived the night.

That’s not drama. That’s reality.

The Letter I Never Wanted to Write

In those days, I even wrote goodbye notes in case he made good on his threats.

To my kids, my family, my friends… begging them to live big, to love deeply, to know I was proud of them, and to understand my only regret was not leaving sooner.

That letter still exists. It’s a reminder of just how far I’ve climbed.

The Wake-Up Call

Health-wise, I was killing myself slowly:

355 lbs.

Pre-diabetic.

High blood pressure.

But the real wake-up call came from surviving my marriage.

I realized I couldn’t just “fix” my body. I needed to rebuild everything: mind, body, and soul.

Faith gave me the strength to keep going.

Therapy helped me unpack why I ate my emotions and accepted relationships that broke me.

Family and friends became my lifeline.

And then I met a handful of people (you know who you are) who saw me — not the broken shell, but the woman underneath — and made it safe for my inner dreamer to come out of hiding. They reminded me that I choose who gets to be in my life now, and I set the boundaries.

And let me tell you — that’s a hell of a gift.

The First Steps Toward Self-Love

It didn’t start with a vision board.

It started with:

Crying until I couldn’t breathe.

Sitting in the dark.

Journaling the pain.

Cuddling Gypsy, my dog and soul-companion.

Sitting with Estrella, a broken shelter dog, until she learned to trust again — and realizing in helping her, I was healing myself.

The quiet was terrifying. But for the first time in my life, I was alone and safe.

Enjoying precious moments with family and friends, radiating pure joy and love for life!

What It Looks Like Now

I see pride in my reflection instead of pity.

I journal daily. I move my body. I guard my peace. I laugh again.

I’m still growing — still figuring out the woman I’m becoming — but I’m letting life surprise me.

I dream big. I laugh bigger. I reach for the sun, the moon, and the stars… knowing I can’t touch them if I don’t try.

My Unapologetic Truths

I remind myself of these truths daily:

I am worthy of love, happiness, and abundance.

I am safe to dream.

I am proud of who I am.

And here’s the spicy truth:

Loving myself has made me more in touch with my sensuality, not less.

I did a boudoir shoot at nearly 290 lbs and saw myself as sexy and vivacious for the first time since late teens/early twenties.

No, I’m not sleeping with everyone. But my sensuality is mine to give — and I choose who gets to see it. And that is a big step!

Over to You

If you’ve been living in self-loathing, please hear me:

You are not beyond rebuilding.

You are not too far gone.

And you are worthy of becoming someone you love — even if you can’t see her yet.

This isn’t a race.

You don’t have to overhaul your whole life by tomorrow.

Sometimes the first step is just sitting with yourself and saying, “Maybe… maybe I’m worth the work.”

If that’s all you can do today, it’s enough.

And when you’re ready, I’ll be here — messy, human, and walking this road right alongside you.

Thanks for reading this far... if this resonated with you at all, please leave a comment, a like, or reach out for a private dialogue.

Regina