I started building my own little book library about three years ago.
Every time I finish a book, I write down a short summary, my thoughts, reflections, and — if it’s a non-fiction or self-help book — the key insights and lessons I took away from it. You can actually see the structure under my book recommendations.
Every now and then, I revisit some of those summaries. I don’t need to reread the whole book to remember what it taught me. A few sentences are often enough to bring the ideas back into focus.
The other day, I reread my notes on Love Life by Matthew Hussey.
At first, I thought it was just a book about relationships.
After reading it, I realized it’s actually a book about your relationship with yourself.
There’s one analogy from the book that has stayed in my head ever since. And honestly, it changed the way I think about showing up for myself — whether that’s training, learning, work, recovery, or relationships.
Imagine that at the beginning of your life, someone handed you a human and said:
“Hey Carina, you have one job for the rest of your life: Take care of this human.”
Most of us never really think about life that way.
We grow up being cared for by other people. Then we enter the world constantly searching for someone else to show up for us. Someone who motivates us. Understands us. Saves us. Fixes us.
But at the end of the day, we are our human’s only permanent person.
The only person who is truly responsible for taking care of Carina… is me.
She’s in my custody.
And for some reason, that framing changes everything.
Whenever I don’t feel like training, learning something new, having an uncomfortable conversation, or dealing with something difficult, I ask myself:
“What would I do today if I was taking care of my human?”
And suddenly, the answer becomes very different from the way we often treat ourselves.
Because most people would never spak to their kids the way they speak to themselves.
Most people would never let someone constantly disrespect their dog, partner, or best friend the way they allow others to disrespect them.
And most people would never neglect another person’s health the way they neglect their own.
Matthew Hussey once said in a podcast:
Loving ourselves isn’t a feeling; it’s an approach, it’s a job. You don’t even have to like yourself today to love yourself.
That sentence hit me hard.
Because love is often treated like a feeling. Something passive. Something that magically appears.
But in reality, love is often maintenance.
It’s showing up anyway.
It’s taking responsibility anyway.
It’s caring anyway.
It’s like with kids. Or in my case, my dog — because I can’t speak for parents.
Do you know how many times I wanted to strangle my dog for being an absolute idiot?
And yet, I still walk him.
I still feed him.
I still cuddle him.
I still take care of him even when he’s annoying the hell out of me.
Because when I brought him into my home, taking care of him became my responsibility.
And honestly, we should probably treat ourselves with a similar level of loyalty.
Whenever you struggle, ask yourself:
What would you want for your own human?
You’d want them to move regularly, right?
You’d want them to stay curious.
To learn new things.
To build meaningful relationships.
To develop skills.
To solve problems.
To become resilient.
To create a life they actually enjoy living.
So why do we so often act like we deserve less care than the people we love?
Take care of your human, too.
I only know that you’d better love yourself every day, with all your might, because no one else has time to.
Matthew Hussey
🧪 Let’s Experiment
You are simultaneously the caregiver and the human being cared for.
That’s a weird thought when you really sit with it.
Because most of us are incredibly compassionate toward other people… and incredibly irresponsible with ourselves.
🎯 Try This:
For one week, mentally separate yourself into two roles:
- the caretaker
- and the human in your custody
Whenever you make decisions, ask:
- “What would I do right now if I was responsible for taking care of my human?”
- “Would I speak to someone I love the way I’m speaking to myself right now?”
- “Am I helping my human grow… or just survive?”
You might notice something uncomfortable:
You already know how to care.
You just rarely direct it toward yourself.
🧠 Final Thought:
A lot of people are waiting for someone to save them while quietly neglecting the one person they’re responsible for their entire life.
Keep it simple, stay curious, and keep learning—you’ve got this.
Take care,
Carina 🦊