I stood at my counter and eagerly ran my scissors over the packing tape. It had been about a year and the arrival of a package with my name on it – which was not from Amazon – was in a rush. Pushing down the flaps of the box revealed a midnight blue ceramic mug with a whimsical image of a nighttime mountain scene. With the mug was a note on a piece of white cardboard the size of an index card.
In swirly handwriting written in black ink, the note read: “Dear Lia, Congratulations on writing this piece. You knew you could do it and you did. Here’s a gift to celebrate that moment.”
I already knew how it would end – Love, Lia – because I’m the one who bought the mug and wrote the note to myself.
When I held the note in my hand and read it all those weeks later, it beamed with joy. Knowing I’m the one who wrote it made it all the more meaningful.
Why would I want to be my own not-so-secret admirer? After all, this summer my husband and I were married for 10 years. In those 10 years we’ve gone through high school, first jobs, three major moves to different states and smaller ones within, the birth of a beautiful girl, and a pandemic. Together we weathered the storms. He’s my best friend. His phone number is all I remember. He’s the grounded yet ambitious Capricorn to my more dreamy, emotional Pisces.
However, if I’ve learned anything in these 10 years, it’s how important self-love is. And that really kicked into gear during the pre-vaccine phase of the pandemic, when life was a series of terrifying days.
The deadlines became more feast or famine than usual. That beautiful girl has by this time become a hectic toddler and had little to no childcare. I missed my social life. The state of the world gave me crushing headaches. Self-doubt overcame me. It also loomed over my husband, who continued to support him, but couldn’t pick up the bait I gave him (ie a whiny text) like he could in prepandemic times.
So I took matters into my own hands. I wrote my first love note in October 2020. Yes, I wanted to celebrate a milestone, but it was also that part of the pandemic before the vaccine where life felt really boring. The note was a way to shake things up.
After all, if I needed a dose of love and validation, why couldn’t I give it to myself? Admittedly, when I celebrated that first big milestone, I felt a little silly writing myself a note. Will the ceramics company laugh at me? Then I quickly decided I didn’t care. When my first note arrived, my husband laughed and said, “Hey, if it makes you happy.”
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A few months after the first self-written note, I found myself struggling on a particularly gloomy day. My daughter, then almost 2, did what toddlers excel at: throwing herself on the floor in fits of tears and screams when she didn’t get what she wanted. To be honest, it was recognizable, because I too had to restrain myself not to throw a tantrum next to her.
Then I remembered: Our house was close to one of my favorite chocolatiers, and it has online ordering.
A gourmet chocolate bar with notes of pineapple and lime was the tropical-inspired treat I needed to turn the day around. I clicked my way through the ordering process until I saw the box that reads “Gift card note?”
I brightened up and started typing, “Dear Lia, you deserve this! Love, Lia.”
When I picked it up, the owner of the chocolate shop chuckled and said she loved the note. Reading it to myself behind the wheel, the chocolate bar in one hand and the note in the other, was a confirmation. yes I to do deserve it. The act of writing the note forced me to come out of my daze and recognize that I’m doing my best. Reading it back reinforced the message even more.
All it took was $6 (a nice chocolate bar, indeed) and my words in someone else’s handwriting to lift me out of a slump that day. No one else would do that for me because no one in my head reads the internal news sticker of my emotional state.
This new habit is not foolproof. Sometimes the note is overlooked by a seller. But hey, typing is half the battle. Consciously stopping to think about what I want to celebrate about myself at that moment is part of it. But when the note is there, it’s much sweeter. Sure, I could just write myself a note without buying a present, but what’s the fun in that?
On another occasion, I framed a photo from a magazine article I wrote. The story was very meaningful and I wanted a reminder of it on my wall. The company I ordered the frame from had room for a gift note, so I wrote, “Lia, you worked hard on this. You should be proud! Love, Lia.” But by the time it arrived, I had completely forgotten about the note, and when the thin card fell out of the box, it caught me by surprise and my eyes widened. Tears quickly turned to laughter as I realized how cheesy the moment was, but I enjoyed it nonetheless.
As much as I love buying these gifts and writing notes for myself, it’s not the cure for my daily woes. I’m lucky enough to even have the opportunity to spend money now and then (most of my gifts were $20 or less, with a few exceptions). However, I know that too much of something isn’t good, and if I do it too often, I risk making a special treat something commonplace — and breaking it in the process.
In the past year I have sent six self-written notes. Part of the joy of this expression of self-love is the spontaneity. When will my not-so-secret admirer strike again? Only time will tell. In the meantime, I have the notes I previously wrote for myself scattered around the house as little memories, for me, of me.
Lia Picard is a freelance journalist based in Atlanta. She shares her adventures and stories on Instagram @LiaPicard.
