How many times have we heard or said the expression, “Be
kind to yourself”? We say it a lot to each other. I used to think it meant doing
something or not doing something. For example, having a massage or not doing a
particular chore. Let’s face it, though, we’re busy and sometimes stressed
people who don’t always have the time or money for a massage or the luxury of
letting things pile up, only to have more to do later. I realised recently –
quite by accident – that being kind to oneself can mean something entirely
different, simpler and more powerful.
Being a parent can be wonderfully rewarding. I have quite a
collection of handmade gifts and cards in childish scrawl declaring undying
love for me. For a time, however, those expressions of love can be few and far
between. That time is known as the “teenage years”. Some children never stop
being both physically and verbally affectionate; others fight strongly to
separate themselves from their parents to create their own identities. The
latter can leave a parent feeling lost, grieving, undervalued and unappreciated.
Then parenting can feel thankless. I mean that literally. There are few “thank
yous” and little appreciation. There are other situations that can create the
same feelings. People prone to anxiety and depression can personalise the
behaviours and feel worthless at those times.
You’ve probably guessed by now that I was feeling quite low.
One day in particular I was feeling worthless and superfluous. I felt as if I
was doing a lot and that one of my children didn’t seem to respect or even like
me. I thought about what I wanted from that child. I knew that I couldn’t force
them to act in a certain way so I decided to give myself what I wanted from
them instead. I wanted thanks and kindness. I spent the day thanking myself for
each task I performed around the house or each errand I ran for the family. I
even looked in the mirror and told myself I looked pretty. It felt stupid and
contrived. Be that as it may, I also felt happier and lighter as I went about
my chores.
It was then that I realised that being kind to oneself had a
lot to do with one’s internal monologue and self-belief. I love having
massages; I love it when the kids do the dishes. I can relax and have some time
off. If I’m still telling myself that no one appreciates me, however, I’m not
really being kind to myself, am I?
I’d love to be able to end this post with some sort of
“happily ever after” ending about how I always thank myself and feel great. I
don’t and I don’t. For the most part, my internal monologue is pretty toxic.
What I’ve learnt – at an intellectual level for the time being – is that being
kind to oneself doesn’t consist of single, discrete acts of random kindness.
Rather, it is an on-going process of actively trying to change one’s inner
voice to one of love and appreciation. The massage is just the icing on the
cake!
(Let me clarify that I don’t expect thanks and love for the
things I do. This has been part of an on-going situation that is complex and
multi-layered.)
