Mirror Kissing Day: A Self-Love Ritual Spell for Survivors

Mirror Kissing Day isn’t about pretending to love every inch of yourself overnight.
It’s about showing up anyway—even when the old voices start hissing. Because survival deserves a smooch.

🪞💋 Mirror Kissing Day isn’t about pretending to love every inch of yourself overnight.
It’s about showing up anyway—even when the old voices start hissing from the cheap seats.

I used to cry every time I looked in the mirror.
Not because of the scars, or the excess weight.
Because of how I saw myself:
A flaw parade. A mistake museum.
I didn’t see a body.
I saw a checklist of everything I thought was wrong with me.

I picked at my skin the same way I picked at my soul—
ripping at tiny imperfections, trying to disappear them.
I didn’t know what really needed healing wasn’t my reflection.
It was my relationship with it.

Self-love didn’t show up in a cute montage scene.
It wasn’t lipstick affirmations and glitter baths.
It was wreckage, tenderness, breath, and brutal honesty—
and kissing it anyway.

The first time I kissed the mirror?
It wasn’t graceful.
Mascara everywhere. Ugly Cries. Snot.
Sobbing like a soap opera extra left out in the rain.
And somehow… it was holy.

Because the mirror wasn’t asking for perfection.
It was asking for presence.

Every kiss is a small revolution.
Every smudge is a new galaxy.
Every wink is a little funeral for the old lies that said, “You’ll never be enough.”

🖤

Mirror Kissing Day isn’t about looking polished.
It’s about looking at yourself—and staying.

Even if you cry.
Even if you flinch.
Even if you leave a lipstick print on your forehead by accident (been there).

Stay.

If you can’t kiss your reflection today? That’s okay.
Maybe today is a hand on the mirror.
Maybe today is a wink.
Maybe today is just not looking away.

Every stage is sacred.
Every step is a spell.

And when you’re ready?
Kiss the soul that carried you this far.
Bless the wreckage.
Crown the scars.
Laugh like a crow drunk on rainwater.

Because you’re not broken, featherbrain.
You’re blooming right through the cracks.
And today?
You gave yourself the only permission slip that ever really mattered.

🖤

✨ Spell for the brave souls out there:
"I kiss the survivor.
I bless the dreamer.
I love the molter mid-mess.
No edits. No apologies."
(Whisper it if you're shy. Shout it if you're ready. Cackle if you smudged the whole mirror.)

✨ You’re not melting, Crowheart.
You’re molting.
Messy. Magical. Magnificent.

Let's fly.

🪶 Questions to stir the mirror magic:
💬 What would you say to your reflection if you could say anything today?
💬 Is there a version of you inside the mirror who’s still waiting for a little kindness?
💬 First step: A kiss, a wink, or a high five? (All are sacred.)