The toxic cult of self-love

I used to think that the early hours of the morning were for sleeping. Sometimes they might become an extension, or at worst a hangover, from a sloppy, messy night before; a party that keeps going, a person you can’t get enough of – these are the reasons to be up at dawn.

Now I know that’s wrong, even detrimental, thinking. Those wee hours of the morning are not for spontaneity or sleep. They are for deliberate self-improvement, self-care and, above all, self-love. When the sun comes up to greet you, you should not be rising with it, but already 60 minutes through your yoga session or finishing your affirmations (‘I am strong, I am beautiful’) in the mirror. If you dare deny how wonderful you are before the rooster crows, you too have committed a cardinal sin. These are the rules in the new cult of self-love.

In retrospect, I should have seen the signs. My spin studio’s ‘Self-Care Sundays’ class; my coffee shop’s ‘Love yourself’ notices; Miley Cyrus buying herself flowers. None of these things bothered me on their own. In fact, they seemed reasonably healthy. It’s a good thing, after all, to be kind to yourself. It’s not easy, either.

But it can be exhausting, too. These days, whatever you do, wherever you go, you better be loving yourself – no exceptions, no excuses. It was over a long and quiet Christmas break, wasting time on TikTok, that I started to worry: perhaps the virtuous pursuit of being kind to yourself was morphing into something darker.

I came across the 5 a.m. risers, women who detail in repetitive three-minute videos how they ‘have a whole day’ before their day begins. They come from different walks of life: students at university, millennials with high-powered careers, mums with toddlers, all of whom have joined an even more extreme version of the ‘5 a.m. club’. Entry is predicated on cutting out human messiness.

Nothing can keep you up past 9 p.m.; that would mean sleeping in till the lazy hour of 6 a.m. Instead, you should be up stretching, reading, journalling (what you’re grateful for, what you fear, declarations of hopes and dreams etc), exercising, focusing on skincare, drinking your greens, eating your prepped breakfast and practising your affirmations in the mirror, before even thinking about starting your day as the rest of us might. Some are pushing back their wake-up time to 4 a.m. or even 3 a.m. Why not? After all, self-love knows no limits.

So much of these routines strike me as anxiety-driven: controlling behaviour recategorised and dressed up as healthy. More broadly, this focus on radical self-love seems to be an antidote to the body-shaming and stigmatisation of mental health that came in decades past. An (over)-correction has been issued: now the only thing that matters is how you feel.

Yet the prescriptions being pushed for what might make you feel self-worth and self-love are enough to drive any person to misery. Because if you have a job, a child or someone who needs your support, then your schedule is going to be interrupted. This version of self-love and its requirement of perfect consistency is totally unachievable for anyone who lets life take them somewhere unexpected.

No matter. Someone somewhere will be posting examples of their bullet journal, helpfully suggesting a template for your new, perfect life. If you’re finding that too draining, you can simply copy your affirmations from endless Instagram posts. You’re going to need all the affirmations you can get to force yourself up at 5 a.m. Don’t be fooled by the self-love crew, who seem desperate to prove their lifestyle isn’t just possible, but enjoyable too.

I have no desire to return to the brutal, judgmental past. But I suspect there was a little more honesty to it. No one really pretended you could look like a magazine cover girl. But we are now pretending that anyone can dedicate their whole self to amplifying self-love. Even worse, we’re pretending they’ll find happiness along the way.

Sure, people certainly feel better, physically and mentally, when they’re exercising regularly; and reading and writing are great for the soul. But this latest iteration of narcissism seems as likely to destroy self-esteem as it does to build it up.

The hardest thing about discovering the cult of self-love is being honest about what leads us there. I suspect I’m one of the many people searching for a few easy tips to make this mind of mine a little more bearable. More in jest than in seriousness, I gave those affirmations a go, standing in front of the mirror, saying different variations of ‘I believe in me’. Contrary to the bursts of love and kindness I was supposed to feel, I physically recoiled. If they’re working for other people, and I can barely get the words out, who am I to tear all this down? Perhaps I just need to practise a little harder.

But I do wonder what happens to these self-loving purists outside of their ‘day within a day’. When the journal is tucked away, and the full-glam make-up face is ready to go, what happens when they step out of the door? Has their routine really prepared them for the world’s misfortunes? I worry that they may be even more vulnerable, having convinced themselves that a morning routine is equivalent to being at peace with their flaws.

Finding self-love, and self-forgiveness, is an extremely uncomfortable, even painful, pursuit. So let’s be honest about that – and seek it out during the waking hours.