Five Ways to Deeply Love your Imperfect Self
I struggle with self doubt. I’m learning to embrace all of me. It’s not easy, but it’s possible.
I’ve been to a therapist four times in my life. I thought each time was for something different. Not true. Each time was really to address the same root. That root has many names. Sometimes it’s in-decisivity — how do other people seem to come to a decision so easily? Sometimes it’s judgment — I chain myself, beholden to the expectations of others and myself. Sometimes it’s comparison — how can I live a life like X? But really, these roots all come from the same place: a lack of pure, guilt-free acceptance of me. Understanding this is not a war. It’s not a fight. This act, of loving myself, is a process. Here is what I’m learning on my journey.
Sit with My Emotions
I often drown myself in to-do lists. My lists keep me sane; they help me organize my time. But they ultimately keep me busy. By doing, I’m avoiding being, but I don’t really realize it. It’s like I’m trying to pull the wool over the eyes of my conscience, trying to placate it: I’m present, I’m present, I say to myself. But the incessant doing blocks the opportunities where my feeling, my emotion-ful self, wants to emerge. Feeling sad? Go out with friends. Feeling anxious? Do yoga. Feeling a lack of creativity? Write something. Feeling unmotivated? Go running.
In theory, many of these ‘practices’ are good — they’re healthy routines for a healthy life. And yet. If I never take time out of my schedule just to be with myself, just to observe the emotions that are bubbling up and sit with them, then how can I ever really know what is happening in me? Sitting with doubt, for me, looks like meditation. I find a calm place, I relax, I close my eyes, I try to separate my thinking voice from my feeling voice. As words, thoughts, beliefs, stories surface, I don’t judge them — I just watch them. I question myself gently: Why? Where is this coming from? With time, I start to feel that warmth, like a hot pad pressed against my stomach, of my intuition. I start to feel the warmth of me burning through the clutter I’ve created.
Acknowledge Thought Patterns
I often think in terms of Other. I’ve done this since my memory has remembered. I think about how others will view what I’m doing, what I’m saying, what I’m writing. This is projection. In truth, I have no idea what Other will think or how they will respond. In fact, Other is probably not all that interested in me anyway. One of the Four Agreements states that beautifully — Miguel writes how our lives are like a movie; each of us is our own director. We can only see through our own lens.
When you think in the Other, you lose your notion of Self. This pattern of “How am I being seen in this world?” keeps surfacing. The reasons are multifold: maybe it’s because I moved a lot as a kid and always had to adapt; maybe it’s because I like stories and I can create alter-scenarios for so much in my life. But the causes do not change the present.
Regardless of why, I’m learning to address the what. I call it out — compassionately. When my thoughts go to: What will my parents think? What will my siblings think? What does a student think? My partner think? I name it. Other, I say. I’m thinking of Other. By thinking of Other, my mind has learned not to think for myself. I’m not sure how naming Other will help change my mental patterns longterm, but in the last few weeks I’ve found a gentle comfort in acknowledging that this thought — the thought of Other — is nothing I can control or know. I’m freeing up my mental space for me.
Do One Selfish Thing Each Day
Today, I am going to my boxing class. Yesterday, I went to a Vegan fair and splurged on an imposter cheese made of cashews. It could be a yoga class. A new recipe. A ridiculous poem. A phone call I want to make. Toes in the river. Fingers in the sunflower soil. Cuddle time with cat. A message to a friend I’ve been meaning to send. These things, often small, not only make us feel good — they remind us of what we love, and how we feel alive.
Time for Thought, Time for Action
Getting lost in ideas is a natural tendency of mine. One moment, I’m about to embark on a bike trip through Latin America. The next, I’m about to hike the Appalachian Trail, or I’m buying a bus to convert into a house. These privileges of choice can numbing — too many choices, without values to guide us, are distractions from what really matters.
Even though it’s important to take time to sit with emotions and to deepen values, enough is enough. There come moments when action is necessary. Maybe action still seems unclear. What job do I really want? Where do I want to live? Do I really want to continue with my partner? Stewing in possibilities produces no reality. A choice is not necessarily right nor wrong. Sufi poet Rumi wrote,
“Out beyond ideas of wrongdoing and rightdoing, there is a field. I’ll meet you there.”
A decision can help clarify the doubt. You won’t know until you try.
Cultivate Truthful Thanks, not Guilty Gratitude
It’s cliche. It’s true. Gratitude is not a comparison — as hard as things are, imagine if my life was like X. I should be grateful. In the world today, it’s easy to feel like everything is fragmenting. Politics, environment, a sense of community, the nuclear family, the ability to love oneself, the ability to express your truth. With this energy suffocating us, it’s easy to defer to superficial gratitude — that voice that no matter how bad things are, it could always be worse. This voice is Guilty Gratitude. It is victimizing the Other who is “worse.” It is comparison, and judgment. I am dealing with a hard emotion, and then I heap a scoop of guilty gratitude on it, and then top it with the ultimate buzz word of self-hatred: should.
Real gratitude shows us what really matters in our lives. Truthful thanks, a gratitude that comes from emotion and not comparison, helps us understand our own values — what is it in my life that makes me feel alive? That I couldn’t do without? What makes me feel alive is what I can protect in others.
I am grateful for moments big and small. I’m learning to share these emotions with the people who bear witness to them. I’m learning more and more to see the wonders of this world, to give deep, deep thanks for what I’ve received, and to trust that life, this curving trail, will unfold before me.
“Be patient toward all that is unsolved in your heart and try to love the questions themselves, like locked rooms and like books that are now written in a very foreign tongue. Do not now seek the answers, which cannot be given you because you would not be able to live them. And the point is, to live everything. Live the questions now. Perhaps you will then gradually, without noticing it, live along some distant day into the answer.” Rainer Maria Rilke
