Why Aren’t You On Your Own List?
You Made the List. Did You Include Yourself?
Recently, I came across a question that stopped me mid-scroll:
If someone asked you to list all of the things that you love, how many would you list before you said yourself?
My immediate reaction was: that's not what this question is asking for. It says things you love, so you think people, places, maybe a really good cup of coffee. A song that hits differently depending on the day. Your dog. Definitely and absolutely, your dog.
But not yourself. That would be weird. That's not the assignment.
...wait. It literally just asked what I love. So why am I excluding myself from that list entirely?
We're Really Good at Making This List
Give most people this question and they will fill it generously. Family. Friends. Travel. Certain seasons. Comfort food. That one TV show they've rewatched four times and will rewatch again. The list comes easily because we've been practicing it our whole lives, noticing what matters, what brings us joy, what we'd protect.
Still, when we make that list, most of us exclude ourselves without a second thought.
Not maliciously. Not even consciously. It's more like the thought just never arrived. Or if it flickered for a second, something in us filed it under "that's not what this is asking for" and moved on.
So where did that come from?
The Short Answer: You Were Taught This
Leaving ourselves out isn't random. We learned to do it.
Many of us absorbed early on, through family, through culture, through a thousand small signals, that love is something you demonstrate through giving. That worth is something you build by showing up for others. Being useful. Being needed. Being good.
The proof of love, in that framework, is always directed outward. It lives in what you do for other people, not in how you regard yourself.
So when a question asks what you love, your brain dutifully starts generating evidence of love, and everything it produces points away from you. Because that's the definition it was handed.
Putting yourself on the list can feel like cheating. Or like selfishness. Like you misunderstood the question.
But you didn't. The question was never only about everyone else.
This Isn't Really About Whether You Love Yourself
Expressing love to ourselves can be complicated. It's not a simple yes or no question.
We all have parts of ourselves that hold real self-love. A quiet confidence, a genuine appreciation for where we came from and who we've become, warmth toward ourselves on a good day. That's real and it matters. Sometimes it's just buried. And for some of us it's buried so deep it can feel completely absent. But it's there.
The part of you that knows your own worth doesn't always get to speak first. Or loudest. Sometimes another part moves faster, the one carrying old doubt, or criticism that was handed to you so long ago it started to feel like your own voice. The part that learned, somewhere along the way, that claiming space for yourself is risky. That including yourself is presumptuous.
That part isn't wrong for existing. It developed for reasons that made sense at the time. But it's been quietly deciding who gets to make the list, and it's been leaving you out.
The self-love isn't gone. It just doesn't always get the microphone.
And Then There's the World We Live In
None of us got here on our own.
We live in a culture that genuinely, consistently applauds self-sacrifice. That places halos on people who give everything and ask for nothing in return. Busyness gets worn like a badge. Exhaustion gets reframed as dedication. The person who always shows up for everyone else is celebrated, and the person who dares to show up for themselves first gets a raised eyebrow and a quiet label.
This hits especially hard for women, caregivers, parents, helpers of any kind. The invisible labor of being endlessly available gets praised. The simple act of including yourself gets questioned.
So if you've been leaving yourself off your own list, you didn't invent that pattern. You inherited it. It was modeled, rewarded, and reinforced long before you had any say in the matter.
A Gentler Question
Because "do you love yourself?" can feel heavy and loaded and honestly a little exhausting, try this one instead:
Do you include yourself?
Not first. Not exclusively. Just at all.
Do you give your own love the same air and space you give everything else on the list? Does your own name feel like a legitimate answer, or does something in you still want to cross it out and say "that's not what this is asking for?"
Because that instinct, that quick automatic exclusion, tells you something important about which parts have been running the show. Those parts aren't trying to hurt you. They're trying to protect you, the way they learned to a long time ago. And noticing that, without judgment, is genuinely where things start to shift.
You Don't Have to Overhaul Anything Today
I'm not going to tell you to wake up tomorrow and put yourself first. That's not how change works. The first step is something smaller than that. Just noticing.
To get a little curious about the automatic move to exclude yourself, when it shows up, how fast it happens, what it might be protecting. That kind of noticing, done gently and honestly, is where real change tends to begin.
Worth Talking About
If you read this and realized you wouldn't have put yourself on that list either, you're in a lot of company. And that's exactly why it's worth talking about.
If you're interested in exploring these ideas further or need some support, don't hesitate to reach out for a free consultation at my Contact Page. You can also learn more about me [here] and more about Individual Therapy [here].