When I was in fourth grade, I had a secret crush on a boy named Scott. When Valentine’s Day rolled around, I gave valentines to everyone in my class but decided to sweeten Scott’s with my available resources. I put fifty cents, my weekly allowance, into his envelope hoping he would like my gift and, therefore, like me.

In elementary school, February 14th was the only day of the year that we had a class party. Unfortunately, every Valentine’s Day until I was fourteen years old, I was sick—a coincidence that eventually caused my family to deem that I had some type of Valentine’s Day curse. Strep throat, flu, colds—there was always something that kept me away from class festivities. A few times I went to school but before everyone had begun passing out cards, my mother was called to fetch her ill daughter.  

So when my crush Scott opened his card, I wasn’t in class. And when I did return to school, I was asked why there was money in Scott’s card. I’m not sure who asked me—it may have been Scott or it may have been one of my friends or his friends. I just remember playing it off like I had no idea why and suggesting that the two quarters had fallen into the envelope by mistake. If the gift had to be explained, I knew to play it cool.

A couple weeks later my friend Mati came to my house for a sleepover. We were sitting in the back seat of my parents’ car when Mati asked me why I had put money in Scott’s valentine. I remember her laughing, saying how funny it was, while I turned red and slipped down into the back seat. I watched my mother in the front seat stiffen and then flip her head around to ask me what I had done. Later, after my parents lectured me and explained why it was inappropriate to try and buy someone’s affection, my punishment was given—no more allowance since I had misused the money given to me.

I wish I had learned my lesson then, but I didn’t.

More than thirty years later, I realized I had been buying my way into a romantic relationship. In less than a year, I bought my boyfriend vacations, a television, a computer, a video camera and an expensive coat. After I ended the relationship, I had to confront the fact that I had been acting like my nine year old self. My actions were innocent when I was in fourth grade, but as an adult, I saw that I was attempting to make up for feelings of inadequacy. The generosity on which I often prided myself was instead a cover for low self-esteem. I placed no value on who I was and what I had to give as a person and attempted to compensate with gifts.  

In an article on PyschologyToday.com titled, “How To Love Yourself First,” Ken Page, L.C.S.W., suggests that it’s the people around us who teach us how to appreciate ourselves. Page says we need to determine who in our lives shows the most appreciation for our true gifts and supports free expression.  

As aunties, we can take Page’s suggestions, turn them around, and use them as a guide for helping our nieces and nephews love themselves.   

    1.    What are your gifts? Initiate a discussion with the children in your life. Ask them what they appreciate most about themselves. On a regular basis find ways to reinforce those aspects of their personality. For example, if a niece or nephew says, “I like that I am creative and good at art,” find ways to nurture and compliment creativity.
    2.    Encourage self-expression. When nieces or nephews express themselves, thank them for sharing. Our full range of emotions—from joy to sadness, calm to anger—is a part of who we are. Allowing children to express themselves without judgment teaches them to accept themselves fully.     

As Valentine’s Day approaches and you send love to those around you, don’t forget about that special someone, that person with important talents and expression. As Valentine’s Day approaches, make sure you appreciate and show great love…to yourself.

Published: February 11, 2014