Why is Self-Love so hard?
Why Can't I Love Myself the Way I Love a Chubby Baby?
The air has turned cool here in Los Alamos, and after the rain the mushrooms have started popping up everywhere. I keep stopping on the trail just to look at them. Something in me has been quietly, unexpectedly happy.
Part of the excitement is from a dream I had about my (future) granddaughter that I midwifed into the world last night. I woke up filled with awe, hope, excitement, and a love so big it didn't know where to go. In the dream I adored her in all of her glory, and I felt deeply bonded to her.
And then a question snuck up on me: Why do I look at a chubby baby with such adoration, and then look at myself in the mirror with so little?
Think about babies. They marvel at their own toes and bellies. They laugh at their reflections. There's no shame at all. Somewhere along the way, we learn it.
The thing that sounds simple
"Love yourself." It sounds so easy. It fits on a coffee mug.
But I'll be honest with you: I've been ashamed of the way I've spoken and thought about my body. I'm chubby, and I look quite different than I did two years ago. Some of the words I've used toward myself, I would never say to another living person.
And I'll admit something harder. I've judged people who are overweight. I wonder now if the judgment I aimed at others was the same judgment I was aiming at myself, just wearing a different outfit.
What if the weight has a purpose?
Here's a new thought I'm sitting with. Maybe this extra density wasn't a failure. During a stretch of fear and anxiety, it was a buffer in the storm. Maybe my body was taking care of me in a way I didn't understand.
I'm ready to release the weight now, and I want to say goodbye lovingly, with thanks rather than disgust. I'm also not the same person I was two years ago. I'm shedding thoughts, beliefs, and a bit of ego that don't fit who I'm becoming. That's heavy, a little scary, and also exciting.
Why is the baby adorable and the elder not?
We don't think a baby has to earn anything. They just are, and we're delighted. Somewhere we start believing worth has to be produced, and that we have to be smaller, more useful, more impressive, or less messy.
But every one of us has a rich tapestry: the laughs, the losses, the mistakes, the things we survived. We have so much to offer the world. If I did nothing at all and produced nothing, just showed up as my honest self, that would be more than enough. So would you.
When others don't hold us through the mess
This part stings. I've spent a lot of my life over-caring and over-giving, especially to family I love dearly. When I went through a hard year of health changes and perimenopause, a real in-between season, I was sad at how quickly I felt disregarded and resented when I wasn't serving the way I always had.
I've realized something, and I'm saying it gently to myself as much as to anyone. Other people's reactions aren't mine to control. What I can control is whether I honor myself in those moments. I wish I had held on to loving myself even when I felt let down. I'm always with me. I matter. I'm the creator, writer, and actor of my own story. And if I don't treat myself with love and respect, I teach the world that it's optional.
What's actually helping
Mirror work. I look myself in the eye and speak kindly. Some days it feels silly. Some days it softens something.
Affirmations. They help, but I've learned I need to feel something in my body before I truly believe it.
Watching myself like a movie. I step back and see a woman who is interesting, fun, honest, makes mistakes, and loves hard. I find myself marveling at her.
Nature. On hikes I send love and appreciation to the trees, the mushrooms, the Steller's jays, the woodpeckers, and lately the elk. Then I turn that same awe toward myself. It's easier to begin there.
Music. Sound gets past my thinking mind and into my body.
Watching my own coherence. As a HeartMath practitioner, I've noticed my heart coherence readings are higher when I view myself with love from that outside perspective. They also spike with love, awe, and laughter. My body seems to respond to self-love in a way I can measure.
Is unconditional love real?
I wonder if we're truly capable of it. I think it has to start with ourselves. I love my children deeply, and still, if I'm being honest, I've sometimes judged them or been disappointed when they didn't do something kind. That's human. Maybe unconditional love isn't a perfect state but a practice of returning, over and over, to you are enough, and so am I.
Being authentic with ourselves and each other may be the best medicine there is. It's okay to be human. It's okay to make mistakes. We're all perfectly imperfect.
Homeward bound
I'm heading back to the simple wonder of being me. To laugh with delight. To be in awe of my own life the way I'm in awe of a mushroom after the rain.
If this is where you are too, please hear this: you are lovable right now, in this body, in this season, in the middle of the mess.
This is the first in a series on things that sound simple but are anything but: self-love, boundaries, loving yourself before you can love others, and more. What helps you come home to yourself?
With love,
Kate
