Self-love is born out of fatigue. When you get tired of wearing someone else's clothes, meeting the expectations of others, showing your best side. You get tired of resisting your truth, you get tired of hiding it (including from yourself). And then you want to hug the detached parts. Recognizing that they are yours. Through fear of becoming someone or something terrible, through the pain of memories which suddenly come to life, through bitter regret about what happened, resentment and anger at those who allowed that happen, through this system of your centuries-old guards.
To love oneself is to love one's weakness, "badness," inconvenience. This is not quite like loving a beautiful picture or sending a bouquet of roses to a beautiful stranger. But only then you have the opportunity to become real. Warm. Strong. And alive.