Back in Rainbowland, I fit my confidence into the first lock. Adjusting my glasses, I peered at the second lock and read its inscription: Self-love.

I remembered a book by Louise Hay that a friend once recommended: Mirror Work. I bought it, but after realizing it consisted of twenty-one days of mirror exercises, where I was supposed to say kind things to my own reflection, I closed it and declared it a bad purchase.

Three years later, in an attempt to find my way back to Rainbowland, I reopened the book. I read the first chapter, and upon reaching the mirror exercise, I closed it again. The discomfort was still there.

A few days later, while looking after my niece, a tender moment unfolded. She was dancing all around my bedroom, her small feet tapping on the wooden floor, until she stopped to look at herself in my big dressing-room mirror. Whether it’s a mirror, a photo, or a video, she loves looking at herself.

I suddenly heard myself say, tell her that you love her.

Te amo (“I love you”), she said.

I was struck by how effortlessly she could do what felt impossible to me.

The next morning, I decided it was my turn. I opened the book where I’d left it, right at the beginning of the exercise, and did it. Once I stopped overthinking, it wasn’t as hard as I’d imagined. So, I kept going, one exercise per day. Some days I felt silly, others uneasy, and others completely embarrassed. But I did them anyway, reminding myself that no one was watching.

On the twenty-first day, I looked at my reflection and said, I love you.

The girl in the mirror smiled back at me and extended her hand. I took the key and felt a current rush through my veins, healing everything on its way to my heart.