Say you’re a 21-year-old Indian girl with no college education and no money. You just got out of a long, abusive relationship with someone who made you feel pretty worthless, and to top it all off, you’re now living on your parents' couch after a suicide attempt. You don’t really have any friends or job prospects, or anywhere to go. You had some semblance of who you were before all of this, but you’ve lost that along with all ambition or desire to do anything besides sleep all day and drink and eat Hot Cheetos in bed all night. Basically, you’ve hit rock bottom. What now? If you’re wondering who I’m talking about, surprise, bitches! It’s me! So how did I recover from such a terrible shit-show of a year? I told myself I was pretty and smart, even when I didn’t feel like I was. I put on makeup and did my hair just to take selfies and flex my beauty on the worldwide web. I sat on the bathroom sink and stared at myself in the mirror until I could actually look at myself for more than two minutes at a time. This bit of advice might sound dumb, but if you try it you’ll come to find that most people can’t even do it. The first time I tried, I started picking away at everything that was wrong with my appearance and burst into tears after 30 seconds of this kind of intense self-criticism. But eventually, I stopped making self-deprecating jokes and wasting time wishing that I looked like other people or that I had a smaller nose or smoother skin. I listened to a lot of Trina and Lil’ Kim and Junglepussy. I used social media to find other women who were focused on investing in self-love and self-care. After years of feeling not good enough, I lied to myself and reminded myself how wonderful I was every day — until it wasn’t a lie anymore. I focused on me, and only me. It takes so much to unlearn and dismantle the shit that is ingrained in us as little girls. To be modest, to graciously accept whatever mediocre men come along, to wear more makeup or not wear so much makeup, not to be too loud or take too many selfies. In 2015, when we have made so much progress with women’s rights and have online communities for strong women to share their stories, I’m still expected to be humble and shave my armpits to appease boring, terribly dressed men on Instagram who don’t have shit to offer but an opinion no one asked them for. Fuck being humble. Put yourself first. You matter the most. I’m not saying I don’t have bad days, days when I lay in bed and don’t shower and feel more potato than human. Days when I want to curl up into a ball and cry rather than be a functioning adult. Bad hair days, bad face days, bad life days. But the older I get and the more I love and care about myself, the fewer and far between those days are. Self-worth isn’t going to come from anyone but yourself. The most beautiful people are the ones who radiate comfort in their own skin and an unapologetic confidence. That’s the glow we should all be aspiring to.