It seems I’m having an affair with my iPad; I know, disgraceful. He spends the night tucked in beside me quite regularly. I can’t help myself. It’s just that he knows exactly how to turn me on with his lighted screen; luring me into the decadence that is reading in the dark and thereby securing his coveted spot nestled close to me when I’m ready to shut my eyes. That he is a formidable alarm clock furthers his case to share the bed. Awakening me before dawn with his fetching shivaree means that of course I can’t keep my hands off of him. One thing leads to another and before you know it I’m tweeting and checking my e-mail every morning while still under the sheets. Yes, even on the weekends. Ugh!
One of Sunday morning’s messages contains some feedback that’s really hard to hear. It’s coming from a plethora of sources, and I asked for it willingly. The words I’m reading are not awful in and of themselves, but the way I allow myself to feel when I read them is. Anything remotely negative immediately causes me to speak harshly to myself: “Your message is obviously not being heard, why can’t you find a way to resonate with everyone?” “The guy who had this job before you must have been much better at this than you are because his name keeps coming up.” “You really stunk it up in this job, look at all of these unsolved problems you’re skipping out on.” “Your successor is going to wonder what the heck you’ve been doing.” “You didn’t get anything right in your time here.”
The good news is I call a time out before it gets really destructive. I know in my head that none of these thoughts are accurate. I also know that I need to be much kinder to myself. But as I leave the house dressed for the morning’s run, I notice that I have inadvertently cloaked myself in the dull ache of shame we feel when we’re convinced we are not quite good enough.
Forty-five minutes in the crisp air dodging snow flurries, speaking my self-inflicted humiliation to a trusted sounding board brings fresh perspective. I decide that I need to look at the feedback objectively; assessing in terms of what is truly lacking and can be remedied versus what represents a craving for certainty that simply can’t be satisfied. I need to convince myself of this truth: It is impossible for one human being to anticipate every question that could possibly be asked and meet every unvoiced need. I need to believe that coming up with the wrong solution to a problem is not the same as failing to address the problem at all. I need to speak to myself like I’d speak to someone I love.
And if I’m willing to take this a step further, I need to decide to love myself.
I’ve been tossing this concept around with a fair degree of seriousness since the “Love Yourself” theme for this year’s handmade valentines came to be. I think I need to go for it. And so as an antidote to the venomous biting words swirling in my head, I ask myself on my way home from the run, “How am I going to love me today?”
By some strange coincidence, Dr. Brene Brown is scheduled to appear on Oprah’s Super Soul Sunday talking about her research on shame, which touches this very topic. I wanted to catch Part I last weekend, but missed it due to the excessive fun I had at the St. Patrick’s Day party; so I am thrilled to see that I have time to grab my coffee and be right on time for Part II. Let’s start this self-love journey off with a bang! I am not disappointed. She talks about much of what you’ll find in this blog post: http://www.oprah.com/relationships/How-to-Increase-the-Love-in-Your-Life-Brene-Brown/1 and I trust the link to the episodes themselves is on this site. Must see TV. I mean it.
Here’s why it matters. There is no one on earth we spend more time with than ourselves. And no one we spend less time trying to please. Most of what we do in a day is for others, and you can argue that the greatest portion of that time is spent attempting to impress people on the periphery rather than honoring those who are truly close to us. It's these people who don't know us, who haven't earned the right to hear our stories that we injudiciously work so hard to engage. We've got it all backwards. What if we stopped trying to appeal to the masses and limited ourselves to those wonderful and supportive friends who love us for who we are?
What if you really believed you belong on the list of people who matter to you? What would that look like?
I want to commit wholeheartedly to asking myself everyday what I’ll do on this day to love me. I want to write my blog only for me, create my art exclusively for me, and free myself from concern about what others may think or feel or take away from my work. I want to rid myself of the compulsion to check who is retweeting, +1-ing, or liking my images and posts. If I do this for me, stripped of my need for affirmation and validation by others, I become more authentic and my chances of truly resonating with others rise. This is how I’ll be true to me. This is how I’ll give all of me. This is how I’ll learn to love me.
Scary. Really. Scary.
My kids are creating today; I can hear them in the family room collaborating on the design of their next composition. Fresh from a trip to Blick to purchase Nick’s early birthday gift of paint, canvas and an inspiring book on graphics, the itch to inaugurate the new supplies screams out to be scratched. I love it when they bring their usually divergent minds together for creative good.
A blank canvas is put in front of us every day, the moment we roll over to find our beloved iPads beside us (okay, that’s just me). We can choose to paint what we think others want to see, or bring to life our own unique masterpiece. Now, more than ever, I’m cleaved to my belief that fostering my boys’ creativity will show them the way to becoming authentic people, people who love themselves. Wouldn’t it be great if I did the same for me along the way?
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