One of the hardest conversations I’ve had with my young teen so far is about human trafficking. It felt like I nearly eviscerated myself to come up with what to say, so I’m sharing it here in case you’d like to use it with the kids in your life, or in case you spot a big gaping hole that we should be filling.

This is what we told her:

There’s this terrible thing called human trafficking, that happens all over the world. Just lately it’s been in the news because it has happened to kids close to our community. It’s hard to talk about, but knowing about hard stuff like this gives us a better chance to protect ourselves. Have you heard of it? (Her answer was no.)

What it is, is slavery. People lure or recruit kids and teens in all kinds of different ways by earning their trust – maybe offering to start you off in a career in modeling, maybe give you a new iPhone, any of a million things. Recruiters get to know you over time, and then eventually, when someone goes with one, they’ll be trapped. Forced to be prostitutes or to work like slaves, beaten and mistreated, and never allowed to go back to their families – sometimes even taken from the country so they can never get home.

These recruiters are another reason not to put personal information online, and a good reason to be suspicious of people who want to give you things, or when someone approaches you and it doesn’t feel right. They hang out in places kids hang out – malls, parks, theaters. That’s why we don’t let you be unsupervised in those places.

We reviewed things she can do if she feels she’s in danger. Many things we’ve worked with her on for her entire life, but something we’re emphasizing now that she’s older is – do everything you can not to go to a second location once you feel like you’re in danger. Make. A. Scene. And also know that if you make the worst scene ever, scream, kick, bite, palm-heel strike someone to the face and it all turns out to be a terrible misunderstanding and the person in question is legit, you’ll never, ever be in trouble with us and we will figure it out together.

There’s plenty to hate about Valentine’s Day: the retail machine, where men have to feel worthless unless they purchase flowers/candy/jewelry, and women have to feel worthless unless they receive them. The way the ‘celebration’ focuses exclusively on couples. The fact that there have been red hearts in the stores since the day after Christmas.

I willingly hated it all. Valentine’s day and I had some rough years, when the circumstances of my life were just not conducive to romance – or at least, not the kind you see in the jewelry store ads. I felt left out. Pissed off. Bitter.

The last few years though, I’ve been giving more thought to my relationship with myself. As a perfectionist, my inner voice is a relentless asshat, an abusive spouse, a controlling parent. And it’s impossible to feel loved when you’re being yelled at all the time, no matter how many diamonds and roses come your way.

So I’ve been experimenting with the previously alien notion of loving myself. Not in the abstract, but actively treating myself lovingly. Pushing myself less. Talking to myself in my head the way I talk to my sweet daughter. Not all the time – the asshat is still there – but whenever I remember.

It is changing my heart.

Changing it from a fragile, brittle thing into something expansive and elastic; something that is not destroyed if other people make mistakes with it. And somewhere in there, I stopped hating Valentine’s day.

The fact is, with Christmas long past and spring still just a dream, this is a great time for a minor holiday. For a little treat, for extra snuggles. For getting yourself a new pair of PJs and curling up with a blanket, a good book, your pet, or someone you love (big or little) to watch a good movie. For a house to smell like fresh-baked cookies. For a mom or dad to go mildly insane and carve everything in their kid’s lunch bag into a heart. To give a treat and a Valentine to your elderly neighbor. To give your nearest and dearest a funny card card or a silly little gift.