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Almost everywhere we turn, either on social media or in the plethora of self-help books we have access to today, the concept of self-love and its importance in healing is highlighted.

For those of us who may have struggled, or still do, with loving ourselves, the idea can seem nebulous, so having well-written books by trusted experts offering ideas for how to practice self-love is imperative—and I’m grateful they exist.

As with anything though, at least for me, the question is: “How do we know it’s working?”

I’ve always struggled with the mirror exercises, telling myself I love and appreciate me. I would be seconds into it before I was noticing things I’d like to “fix” about my appearance or even the words I was using. And I never felt like I was truly internalizing the affirmations I was saying aloud.

Maybe then, it’s in recognizing that we’re making better choices and seeing the results? The thing is…I’ve done this, too. Many times. I’ve put in the work, been disciplined, and seen the results of making time for self-care, and choosing foods, exercises, and activities that feed my soul. Yet still, I wasn’t sure I was loving myself deeply, and certainly decisions I was making outside of taking time for self-care and what I ate and drank confirmed I was right to question it.

So, I continued to wonder, “Was I really loving myself in the way I deserved?”

After becoming a mother, it was easier for me to compare how deeply I was loving and caring for my children with how I was treating myself. I was eventually able to think about myself as a child, but even that was difficult because I spent so many years of my young life as a “parentified child” that I struggled with seeing any version of my younger self as someone who needed the same care and attention I was giving to my own children.

Yet, I persisted and found a few pictures of me at eight and 10 years old that I placed on my meditation table to remind myself that I have an inner child who needed and still needs love. I am a mother, a teacher, and a lover of children, so having this visual made it easier to connect my actions today with how I am caring for the little girl in the pictures.

Still, when push came to shove and I had to make difficult life decisions, I found myself moving forward because I owed it to my children to do so, to set the example for my son and daughters as to what was acceptable in how we treat others and allow others to treat us, whether it’s in handling insurance issues, buying or selling a car, or the more significant slices of life’s pie, such as career choices, our health, and most certainly who and how we spend our time with others, both friends and lovers. I was doing it for myself as well, but the impetus was my children—not me.

Even with the most recent, excruciatingly painful and significant life decision I made, it was my children and pets who were at the forefront of my mind when I knew I couldn’t continue the path I was on. It wasn’t the health issues that were presenting themselves, both physical and emotional, and not even the relief I felt when my plane was barreling down the runway and ascending, taking me thousands of miles away from my situation. I still wasn’t practicing self-love, even though the result would eventually lead me to where I am now, which is a much better place.

The decisions I made were based on what I wanted for my children, how I wanted them to see me, the example I was setting, and how I wanted to enjoy life with them for as long as I’m able to because, as we all know, life is short.

A few months ago, my iPhoto app served up a movie collage of memories from a year ago. Painful as I knew it might be, I decided to watch. The entire movie hurt because I felt sad and cheated out of a future that would never happen. It ended with a picture of me and my then-partner that took my breath away, like a sword through my heart.

I couldn’t take my eyes off my own eyes and smile in the picture. She and I were staring at each other for what felt like forever, and I could feel the sting of hot tears running down my cheeks. I couldn’t look away from her. Her heart was open, and she loved so much. If her smile could speak it would say: “Hope.”

I was “all in,” even though I was made to believe otherwise at the time. My sadness turned to a wave of anger. How could the person next to me not see what I saw in myself in this picture? Enough to treat me like one of the most precious people in his life, or like I would treat my children, and my inner child. In that moment though, I realized it was never his job to guard my heart—it was mine.

Surprisingly, almost as quickly as the anger showed up, it left and my tears turned to a smile. Here I was, feeling intense love and a need to protect myself without thinking about my children or looking at a picture of me at eight or 10 years old. I was looking at a present-day version of me and exhaled with the same sigh of relief I did when my plane was above the clouds almost a year ago.

At last, I knew it was working. I was in love.

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