Tiny Buddha's Guide to Loving Yourself: 40 Ways to Transform Your Inner Critic and Your Life (7 page)

We can become so victimized by negative circumstances that we fail to see the gift that is right in front of us. As a writer, dreamer, and visionary, having this extra quirk can really add fuel to my fire. I am eager and ready for anyone who is done half-accepting or un-accepting something to join me in this new type of acceptance.

What limitation are you ready to flip on its head and accept—as a spice that just makes your soup taste that much richer?

by Jeanine Nicole

It is better to be whole than to be good
.

—J
OHN
M
IDDLETON
M
URRAY

Discouragement is usually an unwelcome guest. Every time it comes knocking on my door, I try to shoo it away or sweep it under the rug. In fact, many of us want nothing more than for happiness to be our constant state of being, and we have a hard time forgiving ourselves when we falter.

It happens: We can get immersed in the thick of discouragement for days, feeling mopey; downtrodden; physically, mentally, and emotionally “burnt out”; and all in all “not ourselves.” When I am in this state, I avoid writing, interacting with others, and acknowledging my own feelings, all with the goal of not wanting to face the dark and shadowy sides of my own being. Though it doesn't always coincide with the external weather, I can feel rainy inside my own experience and mind from time to time, and I usually struggle against this feeling, making it worse.

I am adamant about being a positive person and believe that shining brightly is far preferable to feeling crummy. I think many of us share this tendency toward wanting to hold on to the light—but then, what do we do with our inner storms? Where do we get this
notion that to be our truest and most beautiful selves we have to always be happy, elated, content, and sure of ourselves? Why do we believe that we must feel confident and inspired, have all the answers, and be buoyant in order to be our best, or at least to “be okay”?

We are only human after all, and nothing in our instruction manuals or in our description before we were born promises that we will always be perfect and shiny. And yet we carry this unrealistic pressure to be so and often berate ourselves for falling short any time a bad mood strikes.

It's tempting to only put our best foot forward. For example, on Facebook we can often share our sunshine-y moments proudly but may be less apt to proclaim as boldly when we are feeling negative. If not for wanting to hide our own seemingly fruitless negativity from others and even ourselves, we might also fear spreading the bad mood to others. We often forget that it actually gives others joy to be able to help, and it is often necessary to reach out, since “joy shared is doubled and grief shared is halved.”

So how can you begin to admit or even embrace times when you may feel discouraged? In my life, I am beginning to acknowledge that it is just as natural to feel insecure, scared, and the need to curl up in bed in the fetal position as it is to feel peaceful, excited, or happy. I am even on my way to embracing all these states equally, and not trying to change my sadness or force it to be something it's not.

Sadness needs to be accepted. It needs to be loved, and cuddled, and caressed, and crooned: “It's okay, sadness. I see you. I love you. I respect and honor you, and I will let you be.” It almost always feels a bit better just by being given the space to be allowed and received. Sometimes, as soon as I get on the phone with someone who cares, all the tears I didn't let myself cry start spilling out of me, because in simply being witnessed it is like the person actually reached out to give me the warmest hug.

It's important to appreciate ourselves similarly for all our aspects and to forgive ourselves for even the lowest facets of our self. Guilt, shame, self-flagellation—these don't actually correct the wrongs or make you a better person; they just reinforce the dark emotions even more strongly. So, instead of beating myself up, negating, or denying my sadness and grief, or trying to “fix” it, I simply repeat to myself the best words anyone ever told me: “Be gentle with yourself.” Give yourself a big strong hug, maybe even a kiss, and tell yourself how much you appreciate you—
all
of you, now, in this moment, and forever.

1. Identify what feelings you've been trying to numb or outrun
.

To name a thing is to have power over it. Get clear about any beliefs or feelings you've been numbing with food, alcohol, drugs, or any other quick fix. What is it that you're trying to escape, and why? What mistakes are you still judging, what flaws are you condemning, what experiences are you trying to forget? There's nothing wrong with you for having these feelings; it only feels wrong because you're avoiding them instead of growing through them. Once you understand your emotions, you can challenge yourself to sit with them, learn from them, and let them go. It might be uncomfortable to feel what you've avoided, but the only way out is through.

2. Talk to yourself as you would a sibling or friend
.

Think about someone you love and all the positive qualities you believe they possess. Now consider that, just like you, they are human and flawed. When you're tempted to berate yourself for a mistake or perceived weakness, talk to yourself as if you were that person. You likely wouldn't consider them broken, but you'd consider them unique and worthwhile. You wouldn't talk to them with disdain or judgment, but you'd comfort them with
understanding and compassion. Talk to yourself as you'd talk to them—and as they would talk to you.

3. See the gifts in your challenges
.

Think about all the things you've tried to change or fix—everything you've used as evidence to believe or prove that you're not worthy. Now identify how these things have somehow helped you or other people. For example, if you experience strong emotions, does this passion translate into your work? This doesn't mean you can't strive to improve; it just means you see yourself as the totality of darkness and light—just like everyone else—and recognize that you have immeasurable value, exactly as you are now.

4. Realize that feeling the full range of emotions is not something you have to “fix.”

We often think of happiness as a destination—an enduring positive feeling we hope to know someday. Then when we struggle or experience a setback, we assume that something's wrong—with us, or with life in general. Consider instead that it's normal to experience highs and lows—that this is a natural part of life. If you're going through a hard time, instead of making it worse by getting down on yourself, tell yourself, “It's okay to be where I am right now. I know I won't feel this way forever, and I'll feel better sooner if I accept this moment instead of judging myself for living it.”

I
F YOU LOOK FOR THINGS TO IMPROVE IN YOURSELF
,
YOU WILL
likely find an infinite list of things that you could change. You'll find physical features to alter, weaknesses to confront, and bad habits to eliminate. If you address them, you'll likely find new flaws to fix, new shortcomings to address, and new inadequacies to mitigate. You can spend your whole life condemning yourself for everything you're not, and never run out of reasons to feel down on yourself for not being perfect. You might even convince yourself that the world puts this pressure on you—that it's your parents' fault, or society's fault, or the media's fault—and you wouldn't be entirely off base in recognizing that our culture exploits our fear of being flawed.

In a world where change sells, and sells well, we can easily find a million and one products to address our various imperfections. So we buy creams and gels and lotions and pills. We take courses and seminars and webinars and workshops. And we hire coaches and trainers and mentors and guides. Yet we still find ourselves struggling with a
sense of lack, which further fuels our compulsion to buy. The weight loss industry brings in billions each year while obesity rates steadily increase. The self-improvement industry grows by leaps and bounds while antidepressant use skyrockets. Despite our best efforts to better ourselves—or maybe because of them—we find ourselves feeling overwhelmed by everything we just can't fix.

We then stock up on reading material that helps us learn to accept ourselves (books like this one included), and we try to reconcile the unhealthy desire to attain perfection with the healthy desire to grow and improve. We don't want to buy into the idea that we're defective, but we also don't want to stagnate. We don't want to convince ourselves that we're inferior, but we also don't want to limit our ability to reach our full potential. And we don't want to hinge our sense of self-worth on other people's approval, but oftentimes we know no other way to gain our own.

Our culture may feed into our fears of inferiority, but we're the ones who need to be responsible for what we think, believe, and do. We can see ourselves as the simple sum of all our challenges and weaknesses, or as the complex culmination of both the dark and the light.

How do we start appreciating our complexity? How can we start valuing our imperfect selves as the people who love us do? How can we feel more comfortable in our own skin, with less judgment and more understanding and compassion? Countless Tiny Buddha contributors have addressed these issues on the site, sharing their experiences and insights. Some of those include . . .

by Lucy H. Pearce

Good enough is the new perfect
.

—B
ECKY
B
EAUPRE
G
ILLESPIE AND
H
OLLEE
S
CHWARTZ
T
EMPLE

I stand accused of being a perfectionist. My plea? Not guilty, of course! “I'm not perfect enough to be a perfectionist!” I counter. But the evidence is stacked against me. Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, Exhibit A: my first year at university, our midterm examination in literature. There was major building work going on outside, and concentration was nigh on impossible. As a result, our tutor added 10 percent onto everyone's scores to make up for the disruption. What did I get? One hundred and ten percent. And what was my first thought? “Hmm, I could've done better. And anyway, it was so easy.”

Out of the 140 other kids in the class, how many others got 110 percent? You guessed it—it was just me. This is it, you see, the madness of perfection: it isn't even satisfied with perfection.

Another example: a couple years later, I planned, cooked for, and led the ceremony for my own wedding. The day went smoothly. Many people said it was the most special, personal wedding they had ever attended. But I felt disappointed, in floods of tears at the minor
imperfections, which no one but me had noticed. And despite having lost thirty pounds and being on the verge of being underweight, I still felt fat.

What is tragic is that I know I am not alone in this.

I had been hypnotized by the madness of the perfection-focused culture we inhabit, where even the most beautiful of bodies are airbrushed, and talented voices are digitally enhanced to reach ever-new heights of perfection. We are shown the sublime, and have been acculturated to search for the flaw. No wonder we always feel ourselves falling short.

It seems that everything is now within the sphere of the perfection virus, not just our school test scores, but our bodies, our homes, our weddings, our parenting, our intimate relationships. We are expected, according to conventional “wisdom,” to “give 110 percent”—all the time. “Failure is not an option,” we are chided. “You can always do better, be happier, be richer, look younger . . .” I bet you recognize this?

Even those of us who like to believe that we perch outside this mainstream hysteria are often pulled in by the books of self-help gurus and spiritual guides demanding that we be more mindful, more patient, richer, less worldly. Everywhere the message is the same: You are not good enough the way you are. You. Must. Try. Harder.