I was uncharacteristically cross one recent morning when I noticed myself singing along with a catchy Justin Bieber song and realized the Biebs was calling me on my $h*!…
While the Biebs is telling a lover gone awry to “Love Yourself,” his latest hit struck deep at the heart of what ailed me that day: I wasn’t loving me.
I was a having a very human, temporary bout of self-loathing and self-pity. Exhausted from a restless night of tossing and turning, I was rushing to get ready for the day and found fault in everything.
I hadn’t gotten up as early as I’d wanted in order to take on the day’s lofty to do list. No amount of makeup helped my seemingly flawed complexion. My hair wouldn’t respond satisfactorily to any tool or product. I didn’t like what I saw in the mirror, and I was on the brink of unleashing my self-disdain onto the world. Thank goodness the Biebs pulled me back in the nick of time. It could’ve been ugly.
Don’t get me wrong, I love myself, and I love my life. Period.
But the muscle of self love requires regular strengthening and conditioning just like all muscles. It isn’t something we learn to do once and then we’re done forever.
Like any muscle, the muscle of self love atrophies if it isn’t constantly exercised.
With my eyes opened anew to what was really bothering me, I turned to some trusty antidotes for restoring self love in my life. Forgiveness. Compassion. Kindness. Food for my Soul.
I looked in the mirror and lovingly said to myself the way I’d talk to a bestie, “It’s okay to feel shitty, but get it all out. Then get on with it. You’re more than this, girl, way more.”
I had compassion for myself for the very real but atypical moment I was having. I forgave myself for letting the ugliness I felt inside express itself in outward self-judgment. Instead of kicking myself in the butt more, I asked what I needed to get back to my happy place, the true home in my heart.
I looked at my schedule for the day and rearranged some things to alleviate the self-induced pressure that I’d never get it all done. Ahead of all the “must dos,” I sat down with my iPad and nurtured my soul with her greatest sustenance of all, the time and freedom to create through my writing. Then I iced the cake with lunch from one of my favorite restaurants.
Replenished and renewed in my stores of self love, I returned home to the authentic story of who I truly am.
The next time we hear our inner critic talking to us, let’s stop and listen closer.
Like a pouting child acting out to get attention, the outward tantrum is a loud clue to inner turmoil.
Beneath the roaring self-criticism, we’ll hear a quiet whisper reminding us to love ourselves more
