Ella M.
If you’re reading this, be your own biggest fan.
For as long as I can remember, I’ve been someone who craved being surrounded by people. I loved the energy, the chatter, the constant hum of life happening around me. I found comfort in the noise. I liked the way it filled the spaces in my mind, leaving less room for the thoughts I didn’t want to face. Being around others meant I could avoid being alone with myself. Because when the world got quiet, my mind got loud.
Silence meant facing everything I tried to bury, the doubts, the insecurities, the “what ifs.” And when you’re your own harshest critic, sitting alone with those thoughts feels like being trapped in a room with someone who doesn’t like you. I used to associate solitude with loneliness. I thought needing people meant I was weak, but in truth, I just hadn’t learned how to be there for myself yet.
Over time, something shifted. Maybe it was growing up. Maybe it was burnout from trying to please everyone else. Or maybe it was realizing that no matter how many people loved me, I still didn’t love me. So I started small, and forced myself to sit with the silence. At first, it felt heavy, but slowly it started to feel safe. I learned to listen to myself without judgment. The anxious spirals that once consumed me became moments of reflection. And somewhere along the way, I stopped trying to escape myself.
I began to like who I was when no one else was around. I began to admire my resilience, my humor, my growth. I started cheering myself on, even when no one else could see what I was working toward. That's what being your own biggest fan really means. It’s believing in yourself even when you’re still a work in progress. It’s celebrating the small wins, the quiet breakthroughs, the moments of peace after chaos.
It doesn’t mean you don’t need others. I am endlessly grateful for the people who show up for me, the ones who remind me of my worth when I forget. But I’ve learned that the most consistent source of love you’ll ever have comes from within. You are the only person who will be with you through every chapter, every failure, every heartbreak, every transformation. So why not make that relationship a loving one?
We talk so often about forgiving others, but rarely about forgiving ourselves. We show compassion outwardly, but neglect to turn it inward. I used to think self-love meant being confident all the time. Now I know it is about grace, the kind that allows you to fail without falling apart, to grow without guilt, and to keep showing up even when it is hard.
If your best friend made a mistake, you wouldn’t call them a failure. You’d tell them they’re human. You’d remind them that one moment doesn’t define them. So why not offer yourself that same compassion?
For a long time, I treated myself with less kindness than I gave anyone else. I expected perfection from myself but forgave everyone else for being imperfect. It took me a while to realize that life is not binary. So now, I choose to root for myself. To celebrate my own growth. To recognize that I am both a work in progress and something to be proud of.
And if you’re reading this and can’t quite get there yet, if loving yourself still feels like a foreign language, that’s okay. Be patient. You don’t have to be your own biggest fan today. You just have to start showing up for yourself a little more each day. Until then, I’ll be your biggest fan until you can be your own.
Ella Mathas, Vice President, If You’re Reading This, Syracuse University
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