“Ready?” Kathy asked.

“Ready.”

“Okay, deep inhale, exhale, forward fold- AHHHHHHH!”

It was 7:00 am on Saturday morning and Kathy and I had just started yoga on the beach when a large wave washed up and over our mats soaking everything. We quickly dragged our things farther back, laughing hysterically.

“The ocean wants us to play with her! We should go swimming,” I said.

After a few sun salutations, we waded carefully into the water. The beach was our own with the exception of some seagulls and early risers walking peacefully along the shore. Not a soul was in the water. A woman sat contemplatively in an empty lifeguard chair wrapped in a light jacket.

Misjudging the impact zone on our way past the breakers, we got knocked down by a crashing wave. We emerged from the whitewater laughing, hair plastered to our faces, and covered in sand. There was laughter from somewhere else, too. I looked up and saw the woman in the lifeguard chair shaking her head and smiling wide at our giggling and misadventure.

That wave knocked the adults out of us and allowed room for our inner children to come out and play. Self-consciousness no longer existed. Any fear or trepidation washed away with the outgoing wave that showed us the worst that could happen. There was nowhere to be, nothing else to do. We were free from responsibility and obligation. Just two girlfriends relishing in the special joy that only a beach in summer can provide.

After a refreshing swim, we sat in the surf, chatting. Incoming waves washed up over our laps, filling our swimsuits with sand. The larger ones lifted us up, like hover crafts, and spun us around. Occasionally one hit us so hard we toppled to our sides and rolled in the surf like seashells, laughing all the while, spitting sand and saltwater.

At one point I was thrown onto my belly. I laid in the surf, elbows in the sand, laughing and pushing the hair out of my face. I noticed a couple walking hand in hand a few yards up laughing with me.

Kathy and I had a wonderful time. Had we been seven years old, I don’t think the scene would have looked any different, except for our sizes. A total bonus was that we were also bringing joy to others while we were at it. Something about two adult woman with a cumulative 73 years between them tumbling around in the surf as gracefully as a hunk of driftwood and a clump of seaweed made other people smile.

Joy is contagious. Your smile and laughter has the power to bring happiness to someone else. Whether acting your age or like a child, share the joy. And if you are acting your age, don’t be afraid to let your inner child out to play, for that could be the reason someone smiles today.

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When I first started this blog and wrote of my desire to be gentle and compassionate, I only had others in mind. I wanted to be a nicer and more loving person to those around me. Nowhere in that sentiment was I expressing an interest in being kinder or compassionate with me personally. I completely overlooked myself.

It wasn’t until I was well on my journey that I realized the need for self-compassion. The old adage that we cannot love others until we first love ourselves has validity. It is this love and fulfillment within ourselves that inspires others. It is also what enlightens us to our interdependence, making us willing to share ourselves with the world. On my best day, the day after I surrendered my negative emotions in my release ritual, I radiated love and kindness and people responded to it beautifully with smiles and light of their own. It was incredible to witness. Unfortunately, I could not maintain the vibrancy inside of me and it soon faded like the energy of a stadium once the crowd is long gone.

I continue to struggle with compassion, particularly toward myself. Without compassion, we do not feel the pain of the world, so we are unwilling to help it. There are times I hurt myself emotionally, inflicting pain like a gangster threatening a a witness tied to a chair. I am unwilling to help, instead barraging myself with negativity, high expectations, and hurtful words. It doesn’t even occur to me to save or defend that whimpering version of myself, just to wield my power over it.

I am completely willing to stand up against people who hurt me, but am still unwilling to stand up to myself when I wrong me. Thankfully, compassion is a muscle that can be strengthened with practice and use. I have become more compassionate since I started on this journey. I fail at it, don’t get me wrong, and can still be insensitive and hurtful, but I have also impressed myself with my ability to be loving and kind. Now I need to start extending some of that compassion to myself.

In keeping with the theme of New Moon in Cancer, self-compassion and love, it’s a better time than ever to practice some compassion strength-building exercises. But just like when you redeem your complimentary personal training session at the gym, they first need to assess your fitness level. So click this link to test your self-compassion. Go ahead and take the test (tests are fun!), reading each statement carefully. This should only take 4-8 minutes.

How did you score? My over-all score is a 2.91 and indicates I am moderately self-compassionate. I scored highest (meaning least compassionate) when it comes to self-judgment. I am very hard on myself and do a lot of horrible name-calling. My lowest score (meaning most compassionate) is in the subcategory of isolation. When I was a teenager I thought everyone had it better than me and was having more fun than I was. I now know beyond the shadow of a doubt that is absolutely untrue and I know that every single person is battling something. I know I am not alone in my suffering. That being said, I found the test to be quite accurate.

Now that we know how strong (or weak) our self-compassion is, lets work on strengthening it. Dr. Kristin Neff, who created the assessment, lists some useful exercises and guided meditations on her website here.

I am a big fan of Exercise 1: How would you treat a friend?, but with one difference.

Imagine a child in your life: your son or daughter, niece or nephew. I am thinking of my dear friend’s ten year old daughter, whom I adore.  

1. First, think about a time when this child felt really bad about him or herself or was really struggling in some way. How would you respond to that child in this situation (especially when you’re at your best)? Please write down what you typically do, what you say, and note the tone in which you typically talk to this child.    

My favorite 10-year old has an adorable little pot belly that I am certain she will grow out of (she is very active and LOVES fruit). Since my weight seems to have become an accidental theme here as of late, I will stick with this example. It is breaking my heart in the worst way that this young girl has begun to feel self-conscious about her weight. She’s too young! Although she hasn’t spoken to me about it (my friend has filled me in), this is how I would respond if she did: I would kneel down to meet her at eye-level and place my hands on her shoulders or take her hands in mind, and in a gentle, soft voice I would tell her that she is BEAUTIFUL. I would also explain to her that all that matters is that she is healthy and happy and she has power over her happiness, so if losing a few pounds would make her feel better, then she should, but that she should view it as a gift she is giving herself rather than a sacrifice she is making or a chore she is taking on. I would also remind her of all of her amazing qualities and how wonderful a person she is. 

2. Now think about times when you feel bad about yourself or are struggling. How do you typically respond to yourself in these situations? Please write down what you typically do, what you say, and note the tone in which you talk to yourself.

When I am self conscious about my weight I am heartless. My tone inside my head is stern and condescending. I call myself names like “fat fuck” and when something doesn’t fit and I am frustrated I say things like: “you’re so gross you shouldn’t even be allowed out of the house.”

3. Did you notice a difference? If so, ask yourself why. What factors or fears come into play that lead you to treat yourself and others so differently?

Yes, there is a difference. My 10-year old friend is innocent and is too damn young to have these insecurities. I really do believe she is beautiful and amazing. I do not believe that about myself. I don’t believe I shouldn’t be allowed out of the house, either, but I take my frustration out on myself. I want to hurt me because I am the source of my frustration. Also, I now know that I was treating Thin-me and Not-thin-me as two different people. I know now that I need to integrate them.

4. Please write down how you think things might change if you responded to yourself in the same way you typically respond to a close friend when you’re suffering.

I think love, gentleness and compassion would go a long way. Adding pain to an already painful situation is madness! It achieves nothing! I think I could feel safe if I could respond to myself the way I would to my young friend. If I felt safe, I wouldn’t walk around afraid, which piles on to my problem of seeking comfort and safety. It is cyclical.

Now it’s your turn. Take some time to reflect on these questions. Break out a journal and get to work.

Self-Compassion Break

Now, put your hands over your heart, feel the warmth of your hands and the gentle touch of your hands on your chest. Say to yourself: May I be kind to myself.
You can also ask yourself: What do I need to hear right now to express kindness to myself? Is there a phrase that speaks to you in
your particular situation, such as:

• May I give myself the compassion that I need
• My I learn to accept myself as I am
• May I forgive myself
• May I be strong.
• May I be patient

This practice can be used any time of day or night, and will help you remember to evoke the three aspects of self-compassion when you need it most (via Dr. Kristin Neff).

Were you loved enough?

That is a very tough subjective question, I know. What defines enough? Can there ever really be enough when it comes to love?

My dog, Cooper is snoring beside me right now and the sound is to me what a baby’s laughter is to a new parent. When it comes to my feelings for this mustachioed, four-legged love of my life, there is no room for growth. My heart grew three sizes the day I met him, nearly making my chest explode. He has taught me more about the human capacity for love than any romance movie or relationship ever could. That is because he taught me what unconditional love is.

Love is a human need. Once our physiological and safety needs are fulfilled, we seek a sense of belonging, interpersonal relationships, and love. Without it, we don’t grow right, like a sunflower in the shade.

We spend our lives throwing the word “love” around; craving it, seeking it, feeling it; giving it. We love siblings, ice cream, parents and pets; snow days, pizza, spouses and brunettes.

But are you loved enough?

I want to be loved so deeply and so hard that a magical whirlwind of sparkles forms within my chest collecting every shattered fragment of my heart, piecing it back together. I want to be loved so much that it makes up for every single time I wasn’t. I want a love that I never have to fear losing. I want unconditional love for the rest of my life.

This is a tall order.

Cooper loves me unconditionally. He is also a dog and a fool who will not live the rest of my life, assuming I stick around a while. I say he is a fool because I am not who he thinks I am. I wish I was, but I’m not. I am broken and imperfect.

I haven’t been loved enough. But am I even worthy of such love that I seek? Aren’t we taught not to ask for things we’re not willing to give? I can’t give myself the love I seek. How often do you love yourself?

I have looked in the mirror, right into my own eyes, and said, “I hate you.” I know how to love, and I’m not just referring to the love for my dog. I love many people. I have loved flawed, broken people with the intensity that I wish to be loved with. I have looked into their eyes and found the perfection, and said the words, and meant it.

I have looked into the mirror, into my own eyes, found nothing but imperfection, said, “I don’t love you,” and meant it.

Why is it so hard to love ourselves? If we can’t love ourselves, why should anyone else? I can hardly take a compliment. Last night I told a friend he looked great when I greeted him and he kissed my cheek and said, “so do you!”. I said, “Ugh, no I don’t. I got so fat.” Why did I do that? I stopped myself and apologized and said “thank you”. If I can’t even take a compliment, is it any wonder I have trouble believing I deserve to be loved.

We need love to grow right. Are we really at the mercy of our parents, family, friends, lovers, spouses to love us enough? Is our growth really forever stunted if we weren’t? Can they ever really love us enough to make up for how we really feel about ourselves? What happens when people stop loving us? Love is the sun. Without it, we droop and shrivel. Why should anyone love me if I cannot even love myself? Only one person can love me the way I want to be loved, forever and unconditionally, and it’s me.

I do not hate myself anymore, but I barely like myself. In some ways, I am like a somewhat annoying acquaintance to myself that I have some respect for and who I sometimes have a good time with, but mostly try to avoid. To love myself is the pie in the sky dream – it’s the goal. To be forgiving and gentle and kind and to look in the mirror when my heart is broken and my eyes are red and swollen and smile at myself and say “I love you”.

For now, I just want to like me again.

See this little girl?

I love her. She is beautiful and fun, confident and free. She is bold and adventurous, innocent and honest.

I used to be her.

I no longer identify with her; she is a completely separate person whom I love because I admire so much in her. Isn’t that how we begin to fall in love? We see things in someone that we admire? Their smile, their intelligence, the way they use words, the way they make us feel when we are around them, like we can be a better person. She makes me want to be a better person. Several people I love make me want to be a better person. I want to be worthy of their love. I want to make this little girl, and the people I love, proud to love me back.

In order to be able to look at myself in a mirror and be able to say the words, “I like you”, I will need to eliminate things I don’t like about myself. When I set out on this journey, I have aimed to be more loving and kind, gentle and compassionate to other people. Only a little of that has spilled over in my own direction.

Being at war with myself has been so exhausting. I need to work harder at being someone I am proud of; someone I admire. Maybe then I could learn to love myself and receive love from others.